Vengeance
by Woffles92
Summary: In a land where time can be rewritten by sacred sand, who's to say that death is necessarily the end? Persia is threatened once more when one man's revenge and megalomania takes him to hell - and back again. Post-movie. Pairings D/T & Zolm/OC
1. Prologue: A Dead Man's Plea

**Author Notes:** So, here is the beginnings of a new obsession of mine. I only discovered this movie about 2 weeks ago, when I went searching for a movie in boredom. It's turned into another obsession of mine!

Without giving much away, you can expect some Dastan/Tamina romance of course. There's also the return of the Hassansins and hopefully some more of your favourite characters from the movie!

Reviews are my fuel. Actually my obsession if my fuel, but reviews help :)

I also have a tendancy to get distracted easily by a little thing called University Exams, so I don't know how often this will be updated. The best way to keep up to date is to add it to your alerts! Hope you enjoy. Prince of Persia and its respective characters are copyright of Disney. Enjoy!

_Woffles92_

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**Prologue - A Dead Man's Plea**

Hooves thundered onto the sun baked earth as the night black horse galloped, so fast, it was almost as though you could see the hounds of hell snapping at it's feet. The rider kept glancing nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be following him, even though nothing could be seen through the cloud of brown dust that they were creating. At the edge of the valley, a fortress loomed into view. His mouth was dry, and he was unfathomably tired, but he pressed on, knowing that he would pay a heavy price were his precious cargo delivered late.

"Open the gate!" he cried anxiously as he approached the hilltop palace at speed. Somewhere inside his orders were obeyed and the heavy metal gate was hoisted. Without stopping, the rider ducked through, only missing the slowing moving portcullis by a hair's breadth.

In the courtyard, warriors in black practiced their skills with strange but deadly weapons. Few people inhabited this place, and those that did spent their day working in the surrounding fields, or kept out of trouble, locked away their houses. The rider continued through the deserted streets until he reached the largest building at the centre of the city where he halted his horse abruptly. It whinnied in protest and then snorted loudly. Sliding from the saddle, the messenger walked purposefully toward the building, handing the reins of his steed to a groom as he passed. The guards knew his face and didn't hinder him in his progress. As he passed through a courtyard he glanced at the whirling dervishes dressed in black. Even just watching made him dizzy, so he couldn't imagine how they could keep it up for long periods of time.

Finally, he made his way to the foot of a tall tower.  
"I'm sorry Kazim," said a sentry who was stationed at the entrance, "But he's not to be disturbed."

"Trust me old man," Kazim hissed arrogantly, "He'll want to be disturbed for this."

"I must insist…"

But Kazim shoved him aside, and proceeded to climb the stone steps two at a time. Clenched in his gloved fist was a role of parchment, the cargo which he was so eager to deliver.

At the top of the tower there was a dark room, sparingly lit by candles, and heavily scented by incense. By the window, a shadowy figure sat stationary. Without even stopping to announce himself, Kazim strode across the room to the figure, ignoring the instant headache that the strange incense gave him. He considered that whatever they were burning was the reason they were all half mad, and he hoped that he didn't have to spend too long subjecting himself to it.

He was but a few steps from the man when a black snake leaped from it colied position on his shoulder. It hissed viciously, and would have certainly made an attack on the messenger had it's owner not become suddenly animated and grabbed it mid-flight. He retracted his arm and stroked the serpent, soothing it as a mother would an infant.

"You better have a good reason," he said with a calm yet icy voice, "for interrupting my meditation."

"I'm sorry, but I was instructed that this was to be sent with the highest priority."

With a curt bow, he handed over the parchment.

The serpent master studied the scroll.  
"This seal is broken," he noted with an air of caution.

"It must've been crushed en-route," Kazim explained breathlessly, "I was given the strictest instructions that it wasn't to leave my hands until I got to you."

He opened the scroll and began to read.

_Hassansin,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead and have desperate need of your services._

_You have been very useful to me in the past and I know you will not fail me._

_I was reluctant to have to consider this alternative, but in the event of my death, accidental or pre-conceived, this is the course of action which I beg you to take. You must trust me that you will be rewarded in the end._

The letter was detailed and precise, on where, when, and what was necessary for him to take this 'course of action'.

It was signed, _Nizam._

The Hassansin looked up from the parchment and regarded the messenger with cold blue eyes. As he did, he whispered to the snake which had settled around his arm. In response, she unwrapped herself and made her way slowly towards Kazim who began to back away from the approaching reptile.

"Don't move," the Hassansin commanded, "She won't attack you unless you move."

"Stop it!" Kazim hissed as the snake slowly ascended his leg. A single bead of sweat popped onto his forehead and rolled down his face.

The Hassansin stood up and approached him. Slowly, he circled Kazim and came to rest by his ear.  
"One thing you must remember when carrying messages," he uttered with his voice barely more than a whisper, "Is not to read them."

"I didn't!" was his innocent protest as he felt a slithering up the front of his chest. Kazim's eyes widened and there was a flash of terror as the serpent settled itself so as it was looking him directly in the eye. It rocked slowly, sizing up its prey.  
"Zolm, you can't leave me like this! Stop this vile thing!"

Pausing before he left, the serpent master turned back to the messenger, and offered some final words of advice.  
"Don't move."

He left the petrified man in the middle of the meditation room and descended the tower. As he reached the foot of the long spiral staircase, the sound of a blood curdling scream reached his ears. It lasted only a few moments before there was silence again. The sentry posted at the bottom of the stairs shot him a confused and frightened look as he passed.

In response, the corners of Zolms's mouth turned up in the smallest, yet deadliest of smiles.  
"I told him not to move."


	2. Chapter 1: Time Of Dreams

**Authors Notes: **Hello again!

I got this chapter done pretty soon after the last one, and since the last bit was only a prologue, I was eager to get this up. Don't get used to this speed of update thought, I don't think I'm going to be able to keep this speed up, especially with exams in two weeks!

I'm going to do review replies here:

**Sorree**: Thanks! I spend a lot of time when I'm writing with my eyes closed, going through what's happening in my head - like a movie! I'd love to be able to make movies, maybe I will one day!  
**StarfishOnTheBeach**: Hopefully you'll get a bit of your wish here ;)  
**Holding Infinity**: Wow, you said some pretty nice things about my writing there :D Thanks! And if you haven't seen the film, I'd suggest you do, or at least read a summary somewhere on what happened, because this might get a bit confusing otherwise! But nice to see you here!

So, here it is. I'm working with the two main characters here, so hopefully I've done them justice and kept them true to character!Thanks for reading, and remember I love those reviews! xx

p.s. I gave one of their item's of clothing their real Arab names. ¹A sirwal is the really baggy trousers that they wear in Arabic/hot countries. Like Princess Jasmin from Disney's Aladdin.

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**Chapter 1 – Time of Dreams**

_Why is this happening again?_

_Dastan looked down at Tamina, her normally beautiful face mixed with terror and determination. Burning pain shot through his arm as he tried to hold onto her, something which he could have done with ease had Nizam not stabbed him in the shoulder moments before._

_"It's not my destiny it's yours," she was saying, as her eyes brimmed, "It always has been. Let me go."_

_"No!" he cried as another wave of pain threatened to overwhelm him. He gritted his teeth against it.  
"I changed this, Tamina! We went back. I stopped this from happening!"_

_She seemed not to have heard him, and repeated her request.  
"Let me go."_

_"I'm not letting you go!" he screamed with defiance.  
_

_He realised in that instance that those were the exact words which he had used before. It was happening again and he could do nothing about it. What had gone wrong?_

_"I wish we could have been together," she breathed as the tears began to slip silently from her hypnotic brown eyes. Then, her soft fingers released themselves from their hold on his wrist._

_"No!" Dastan shouted as tendrils of confusion strangled his voice._

_Tamina started to sob as, little by little, she slipped from his grasp. She may have chosen her fate, but that did not mean that ever fibre in her body was crying out in terror. Dastan was struck by a crushing sense of helplessness as her hand slowly slipped out of his. Tamina let out another cry, that was somewhere in between a scream and a whimper._

_Then she fell._

"_Dastan!" _

_Her screams reverberated off the cavern walls and returned to him as a thousand daggers piercing his heart._

_"No! Tamina!"_

_Her body plummeted to the ground far below, and before he knew it, she had disappeared into the smoke._

_"NO!"_

The cry carried Dastan through into the land of the living as he sat bolt upright in his bed. A cold sweat dripped from his brow and his breathing was ragged. He looked around in the darkness of his bedchamber as he gathered his thoughts. A dream, he told himself, it had only been a dream.

Footsteps thundered along the corridor outside his room and suddenly, Bis, his oldest and most trusted friend burst into the room. He looked flustered as though he too had been asleep only moments ago.

"Dastan!" he cried breathlessly, "Are you alright? We heard a shout…"

Dastan tried to swallow before speaking, but his mouth was as dry as the desert. He cleared his throat with a small cough and answered.

"It's alright Bis. It was a nightmare. Only a nightmare."

Bis looked around suspiciously, then, accepting the answer as truth he returned his sword to its sheath.  
"Very well. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm fine," Dastan replied.

Bis and the other men at arms who had accompanied him backed out of the room, and the door was shut.

Dastan blinked several times as he processed the events which had just occurred. It had been a dream? Surely the only reason which it had felt so real was because it had happened in the timeline that he had erased?

As he thought more on it, the lines between dreams, reality and alternate timelines became blurred and he wasn't exactly sure what was real.

Tamina.

Was she really dead? Impossible, was his immediate thought, but as soon as it had crossed his mind, doubts began to creep their way in. Doubts had a habit of doing that. He had to know for sure.

Leaving the bed, he crossed the room and pushed back the silk curtain which separated the balcony and the room. Although daytime in Alamut was punishingly hot, the cool nights offered a much needed relief. Moonlight flooded the city and Dastan would have stopped to admire its beauty had he not been distracted by the thoughts of seeing Tamina alive and well. He raised his eyes up, towards her balcony, several floors above. Scanning the wall he judged just how he would scale it. There were poles of wood sticking out from the mortar, the remnants of scaffolding used to construct the mighty palace. Along with the ledges of windows, a clear path up the wall was beginning to form in his mind.

Without taking a moment more to consider it, he began to climb. He leapt up the wall with a deftness that he'd learned as a child. In no time at all, he pulled himself up and over the stone railings of her balcony. He landed with cat like precision onto the mosaic floor. He hadn't realised it until now, but his heart was hammering with anxiety. What if he found the bed empty? With his breath held, he pushed aside the curtain and entered her room.

The smell of her perfume was instantaneous and it stirred a longing inside him. Was it only a lingering smell, or had she been scenting herself before her looking glass only that night? Her bed was also curtained, and in the darkness, he couldn't make out whether or not she was there. He crossed the room quickly and without hesitation, flung back the light drapery.

Although her back was to him, the long black hair, the slender legs and pleasing rear were unmistakably those of Tamina. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was alive, and she was safe. He allowed himself to smile as he considered the stupidity of the situation. How had he allowed the doubts of his dreams drive him to such an extreme?

He was about to turn and leave when his sensitive ears heard the faintest sound, as though a sword was being unsheathed. Then, with a cry, the figure from the bed sprang up and made a swipe at him with a sword.

Dastan lunged backwards, and felt a rush of air as the sword just missed the vulnerable flesh of his neck. He dropped to the floor and rolled backwards out of the way of her fervent swipes. He had just enough time to get to his feet before she came at him again. This time, he was ready for her and grabbed her wrists as she brought the sword down, two handed, towards his head.

"Tamina!" he hissed, pushing against her surprising strength, "It's me!"

He swung around in semi-circle until the moonlight from outside reflected in his face. She let out a little gasp of realisation. He let go of her wrists and the sword left her hands and clattered to the floor between them.

"Dastan?" she cried in disbelief.

"I apologise if I startled you Princess," he started, trying to calm her with one of his melting looks, "Believe me, it was not my intention."

"Startled me?" she asked indignantly. Pausing for a moment, she regarded him, blushing slightly on the realisation that his chest was bare and he was only wearing a loose fitting sirwal¹. Then regaining her composure, she narrowed her eyes in a scathing way that only Tamina could.  
"What, _noble_, intentions did you have then, _Prince_?"

"I… eh…" he stammered as he hastened to come up with a valid excuse. He had not told her much about the events of their previous timeline, but without it, his real excuse would seem a fanciful lie.

"Think of the trouble you will be in when you're found in here, Dastan." She continued, "Your father will be very disappointed to learn that you were seen in the bedchamber of your betrothed on the night before your wedding. I don't know the laws of your Persian gods, but mine command that I be untouched before I am made a wife."

Dastan made a mock grab at his chest. He made a performance of it, overexaggerating the look of pain on his face.  
"You wound me, Princess, to think that I would do such a thing."

"Then what _are_ you doing here?" she asked again, displeased at being made fun of in this way.

"I dreamt that you were in danger, and I had to see for myself that you were unhurt."

Tamina looked decidedly unimpressed by his venture.

"It was a very vivid dream," he offered to further his otherwise dwindling excuse.

"Such a noble Prince, leaping to assist the damsel in distress," she taunted.

Dastan couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Tamina snapped.

"You've said something like that to me before," he smiled knowingly.

Her curiosity was aroused.  
"And just when, my _dear_ prince, are you going to tell me what happened in this other life that you _claim_ that we had together?"

He had hinted at his knowledge and use of the dagger of time, but had never spoken the whole truth to her.

"What happened is my burden to bear, not yours," he answered simply. Ashamed of his actions in the time before the sands were reversed, he kept the story to himself. He was a different man now, but he couldn't be sure she'd see it the same way. After all, she remembered nothing about it.

Annoyed that secrets were being kept from her, she smirked, then, took in a sharp breath. Dastan could see that she was about to call for her guards and bounded forward. He clasped a hand over her mouth. She frowned and he could almost feel the piercing daggers of her earthy eyes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned. She replied by nipping the skin of his palm with her teeth.

"Ow!" he cried, more in surprise than actual pain as he let go. He looked up anxiously, half expecting for her to call for the guards, but she didn't.

From here, he was allowed to study her in the soft white light coming from the balcony. Her beauty knocked the wind from his gut, and he felt as though his heart would burst it was so full of love. The look in his eyes burned her, and Tamina had to look away.

Impulsively, Dastan cupped one hand around her cheek, and although she flinched slightly at his touch, she didn't move away. There was a voice in the back of her head screaming at her to stop this foolish behaviour. He was barely more than a stranger. But at the same time, she could feel somewhere deep inside herself that she could trust this man with every part of her being.

"Tamina," he breathed, "You can choose to believe me or not, but there was a time when I think you cared for me as deeply as I do for you. I'm just waiting on that day to come again."

He paused for a moment and studied her face, trying to read her reactions. Then, he looked her directly in the eyes, so deeply that Tamina thought he was surely looking into her soul. The intensity frightened her a little.

"And what makes you so sure you'll win my affections?" she asked. Her voice was soft, and her familiar scorn was absent.

"Time, is a complicated thing," he said with a knowing smile. "Tomorrow you will become my wife by name. However, I am prepared to give you _time_ if you so wish, until you are ready to become a wife by _all_ the meanings of the word."

Tamina raised her eyebrows in slight surprise as she understood his meaning.

"Although the wait will cause me much pain and frustration," he added mischievously.

Unable to resist, he lowered his face toward his. She stiffened, but did not resist.. It would probably earn him a painful slap, but he had to kiss her. It took every morsel of strength that he possessed not to ravage her with his mouth. The resistance was almost physically painful for him, but he had to remember that this was _her_ first kiss.

Lightly, he brushed his lips against hers. It lasted only a moment, but the sensations of touching her mouth with his slaked a tiny portion of his lust.

"I'll leave now," he murmured, as he backed away from her, fearing what he would not be able to resist his other temptations should he remain. As he approached the balcony drape he turned back with a smirk.  
"Have I managed to silence the princess?" he asked, feigning surprise.

"Don't flatter yourself Dastan," she said almost immediately,"You can't take the credit for silencing me when I simply have nothing further to say to you."

He chuckled and ducked through the curtain. Surprised as to his leaving that way, she suddenly realised that she had no idea how he'd managed to get into her room in the first place.

"Dastan?" she called hurrying after him, "How did you get…"  
She stopped and gasped as she saw him leap off the balcony, apparently to his death. She was about to scream when she saw him expertly grasp onto a window ledge, without any apparent strain.

"Dastan!" she hissed, "What in the gods are you doing? You're going to kill yourself!"

"Have a little faith in me Princess," he urged as he swung himself effortlessly to the next beam, or ledge, until he landed softly onto his own balcony several floors below.

Even from a distance he could sense she was reservedly impressed. With a small nod of her head, she disappeared inside her room. Dastan smiled with content.

As she lay on her bed, Tamina brushed her fingers over her lips. They still tingled from where he had kissed her. Then, she stopped suddenly and grunted in frustration, berating herself for girly foolishness. In her mind, she played over how their little _tête à tête_ should have gone. She shouldn't have dropped her sword and let him stay, she should have insisted he leave immediately, she should have called for the guards, she should have kicked him when he had touched her face, and by no means should she have allowed him to kiss her. But try as she may to resist , her heart was beating fast and it felt as though a kaleidoscope of butterflies had been set free inside her.

Despite herself, the barbaric Persian prince who had invaded and nearly destroyed her beloved Alamut had bewitched her body and mind. She knew that there was no possible way she could remember an alternate time line, if such a thing even existed, but there was something inside of her that knew he could be trusted. She closed her eyes and tried to calm the millions of thoughts and feelings flitting from one corner of her mind to another. Eventually, she fell into a deep sleep, and dreamt about running ostriches.

Unseen except by one, a shadowy serpent slithered its way across the cool floor of her bedchamber.


	3. Chapter 2: An Hassassin Outwitted

**Authors Notes:** Well, I'm just a little writing machine aren't I! Can't believe I've managed to churn out another one of these this week! You've all been FABULOUS reviewers! Here are the replies:

**Tia: **I hope this chapter will give you a glimpse of your wish!  
**Bell:** Thanks! Cross my fingers my revision is good enough!  
**Sorree:** But we all know Tamina to be a very complicated character ;)  
**Starfish: **I'm afraid we wont be finding out about Tamina for a while, you'll just have to wait a little bit longer!  
**TashaB:** Thanks! I tried to make the movie story transition seem less, so I'm flattered you noticed!  
**Parlour Trick**: What lovely long reviews! And I don't think it's an Ace I have up my sleeve, a more modest Queen or Jack would be more likely! Nice to know you're reading xx  
**Gottalove and Worldnerd12: **Updating now! ;P  
**Winged Shadow**: Thanks, it's a great compliment that you think I've captured Dastan's humour! I do try! And thanks for the good luck! I spend my mornings and afternoons in the Library making notes, then come home to eat and write this! I like to keep busy! :D

Thanks again everyone! A little warning, in case you can't already see in the chapter, I've jumped back a few weeks in the plot of my story. This shouldn't throw you too much, but if there's any confusion, this is before the events of Chapter 1! Chapter 2 (And probably 3) are solely focused on Zolm, so you'll have to hold onto the Tamina cliff for a little while longer! In case anyone's interested, I had originally had this plot line well after a bit more Dastan and Tamina, but I had Zolm travelling back and forth between Nasaf and Alamut in a matter of hours, when realistically it's probably more like weeks journey! So, because I like to keep things as realistic as possible, I've jumped back a bit to make the flow of events a bit more plausible. It also means that I have a few chapters now in the bank. Chapters 4 and 5 to be exact. Chapter 3, however, is yet to be written.

Enough gibberish! Time for story! Enjoy! xx

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**Chapter 2 - An Hassansin Outwitted**

_Two weeks earlier._

The streets of Nasaf were busy, as per usual. Although the royal family were in Alamut for the wedding of their own Prince Dastan, life in the city went on without any hindrances.

Zolm stole through the crowds unnoticed, as was his particular skill. He knew that he was about to face one of the more difficult parts of his task. His destination was the Grand Temple beside the palace. However, it was not his sins, or a sudden urge to petition the gods that summoned him. His prize lay underneath the temple, in the burial chambers of the royal family.

Although there had been many witnesses of the scene to confirm that Nizam had indeed attacked his nephew with intent to kill, the great king Sharaman refused to believe his brother could be capable of such a thing. He had declared it a moment of madness, brought on by the heat, or a fever. The majority of the evidence which would have damned him lay in another time, which only Dastan could recall. So, he was given a royal burial and cremated honourably. The ashes of his body were placed in the royal vault under the temple.

The temple was ornately decorated as homage to the gods. Anyone else would have been awed by the sight of the glinting gold, and the towering domes, but not the Hassansin. He had long denounced his faith in the gods of his land and had forsaken all his once treasured responsibilities. Now his honour and glory were found in the spilling of blood and the reaping of souls.

As he entered, he slipped off his shoes, for fear of attention being drawn. He would no doubt cause a seen if he was reprimanded for desecrating the temple with soiled feet. Unseen, a voice sang without accompaniment and Zolm took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the incense that was burning. As he did the hooded face of a girl with startling amber eyes flashed in his mind. He saw thieving fingers among a whirl of people. It was so brief, that it might never have even happened. Once upon a time, these unexpected visions would have unnerved him, but after years, he was well accustomed. Unless he was in a deep trance, the flashes were incoherent gibberish, showing scenes of a future that may have been his, or equally anyone else in the whole city.

He continued into the prayer hall, which was empty, save for one or two men silently kneeling with their head's touching the floor. He knelt down in this fashion by a high window with long ornate curtains. The snake beneath his robes stirred and slipped quickly out and behind the curtain.

Zolm stayed in that attitude for some time. To a stranger he would have seemed the highest example of piety. Or perhaps they would have pronounced him asleep, which was not uncommon.

Finally, he felt the snake return to him. As he expected, it wrapped itself around his arm, and then sank its long fangs into the soft flesh of his arm. Immediately the fiery venom began to flood his veins, and he could feel it pumped from his arm, to his heart, and then to his head. After years of being bitten by snakes, whether purposefully or accidentally, his body had built up immunity to it, and he knew that he was in no danger. He rolled his startling blue eyes back into his head and was immediately transported through the temple, along its hidden corridors and passage ways, down through the floor and into the dark vault beneath their feet.

When the last person left the prayer room, he stole into one of the side passages, and following the path the snake had shown him, he made his way to the vault. Nobody hindered his path, and if they had, they would have met their death by a swift blade, or perhaps a broken neck. Killing in a holy place would have caused him no grievances.

His affiliation with the serpents, his years of training, and possibly his extensive exposure to venom meant that darkness was, also, not a problem. Although his vision was not as clear as his reptilian counterpart, he could still see well in what others would deem completely black. The room was dusty, and the lingering scent of death hung ominously in the air.

The urn was easy to spot, it was the only one not covered in an extensive layer of dust. He placed a hand on it and smiled wickedly, thinking how his onetime employer, who had been in the midst of a plot to overthrow his brother the king, had now been reduced to a clay pot filled with ash.

Taking the whole urn would have been the best way of ensuring he had enough for the ritual, but he couldn't take that chance. If a priest had come down her to pray for the souls of the departed, he would have raised an alarm. Carrying out duties undetected was the corner stone of the Hassansin guild, and he wasn't about to break his own rules. Instead, he opened a leather purse and used the lid of the urn to lift some of the ash in. Although he didn't follow any religion, he was still superstitious when it came to touching the remains of the dead.

Having got what he needed, he quickly made his leave, collecting his long and well-worn travelling boots at the entrance.

He was heading for the inn, where he'd stabled his horse and was planning on spending the night before making the journey to Alamut. It would take the better part of two weeks to reach the 'Holy' city. His arrival would be just a few days before the wedding of Dastan and Tamina, a perfect time to unleash the chaos which had been conceived by the Prince's now dead Uncle.

It had been deliciously easy to get Nizam's ashes, and he was wondering if the following instructions would prove as easy. He was revelling in his triumph when his keen senses detected the tiniest of touches inside his robe. He whirled around, grabbed the thief by the arm and bent it back to the point of breaking it. The girl let out a cry of pain. In a moment of realisation he could see her eyes, wide in surprise, were the colour of gold. At once he remembered the vision in the temple and understood it. She dropped the small leather pouch she'd taken from him and a small boy of no more than five years of age caught it before it hit the dusty street and disappeared. It took him a second too long to process what had happened and the young woman managed to wrench herself from his grasp. In the throng of people, he didn't know whether to watch for the boy or the girl. They were in cahoots no doubt, so wherever one went, the other wouldn't be far behind. He choose the girl, the boy was too small to be seen over the heads of people.

Gritting his teeth in anger, he followed her as she weaved through the people, turning down side streets and alleys. As he did, he thought with a mixture of wonder and irritation, how she had managed to get the upper hand on him. He was an Hassansin, _no_, the _Leader_ of the Hassansins, and the team of a street urchin and gypsy girl had bested him. _Fine_, he worked better when he was seeking revenge anyway.

She kept running, glancing over her shoulder every so often to check if he was still giving chase. When she slowed, he realised that he'd evaded her gaze successfully. The smile on his lips was dripping with menace as he crept up silently onto the alley where she had secreted herself. Watching in wait, it wasn't too long before the boy appeared. He bent to the ground and the snake slipped from his sleeve and made its way down the alley.

"Give it here," he could overhear her say anxiously.

Then, a child's scream broke the quiet, telling him that the snake had done it's bidding, and he turned down the alley.

The girl jumped as his shadow suddenly turned the little passage to dark. Then, her eyes darted feverously back to the boy, who was wrestling with the snake that was coiled around his neck, awaiting further instructions before strangling. The little boy started to wail, then cough desperately as he found breathing difficulty breathing.

"Nasreen!" the little boy wailed, "Help me!

"Give it back," Zolm whispered dangerously, holding out a pale hand to the girl, "Or I'll kill the boy."

She straightened up, and returned his look with defiance. With a quick movement of her hand, she stuffed the pouch underneath her robes, in the place between her breasts. The gesture further enraged him. He stretched out his hand, in readiness to command the serpent. The boy's wails grew softer and more pathetic. He was truly terrified.

"Don't test me girl."

"Do what you like," the girl, Nasreen, said nonchalantly, placing her hands on her hips, "He's no concern of mine."

The heartlessness of her words struck him with surprise, but he didn't allow the emotion to reach his face. He moved his hand slightly, and the snake rippled as it tightened its grip in the tiniest of movements.

"This here isn't heavy enough to be coin," she continued, indicating to her bosom, "And if you want this back bad enough to kill this kid, then it must be worth more than a gold coin or two. Therefore, it's worth more to me than he is. Probably doing him a favour anyway," she added, wrinkling her nose, "The little rats all die of starvation sooner or later."

His leverage over her had vanished. It was by foul luck that she'd managed to steal the one thing of value on his person. If it had been Nizam's ashes, it would have been frustrating, but he could have returned to the Temple and stolen another lot. But, no, she'd stolen the precious incense that he used for his meditations. In weight, it was worth more per measure than gold and he wasn't in a position to purchase more. With reluctance, he inclined his head and the serpent relinquished its hold.

The boy dropped to his hands and knees and began to retch and cough. Then, he bolted out onto the city streets.

Zolm took a step towards Nasreen, who moved one back. He smirked and commanded the snake to move towards her. She took another step back.

"I can run faster than you," she boasted, "You won't get me with that little snake trick of yours."

"But I'll still find you," he answered with a voice like poison. "No-one can hide from me."

"I have a better solution," she said, "Give me coin for a meal, and a night in a good bed, and you can have you're precious… whatever, back."

"I think I'll save the money and just kill you," he offered unfeelingly. But even as he said it, he knew that he wouldn't follow through. There was something inside, underneath the loathing and irritation, something like respect, for this girl who had readily condemned an innocent child to death, and had outsmarted him, an Hassansin.

"But you won't," she smiled triumphantly.

"What makes you so sure?"

He took another step towards her and this time, she held her ground. He inched forward again.

"I know people. You for example, you kill every day. But you won't kill me."

He arched an eyebrow at her apparent arrogance, a trait that was uncommon in women of these parts. Nasreen intrigued him. He moved further forward until he was standing right in front of her. With lightening reflexes, he reached out and put his large but pale hand around her small bronzed neck, feeling the pulse of her vein throb beneath his touch. He had her now, yet she still had the insolence to smile.

"What are you trying to prove?"

He became suddenly aware of a sharpness against his skin. Glancing down he realised that she had the point of a long dagger pressed firmly against his abdomen. He wondered where she'd managed to secrete that on her person. Once again, the gypsey girl had managed to best him.  
"You choke me," Nasreen whispered dangerously, "or call that damn snake and I'll push this in so hard it'll pop out the other side along with all your inners."

"I'm terrified," came his scathing reply. He tightened his grip a tiny bit, and she responded by putting more force behind the dagger until he was almost sure it would break through the cloth and skin at any moment. There was a standoff as ice blue eyes glowered at hawkish yellow.

Finally, he released his hold on her, and after a moment, she put the weapon back up the sleeve of her robe.

"Do we have a deal then?"

His lips betrayed his head, and before he had even considered it properly, he conceded.  
"Alright."

He was betraying his sense of judgement and everything that he believed, but he had to know more. Besides, he could just kill her later if he felt like it.


	4. Chapter 3: A Night With The Gypsy

**Authors Notes: **Hey again! Another chapter done and dusted! I think revision is driving me a little insane. I spend all day doing revision, then all night writing. I don't think I can keep this up, but my brain won't let me rest! But, by this time next week I'll be getting ready to sit the last exam and then it'll be all over!

Thanks for reviews guys, although has anyone else noticed things have gone a bit weird on ? The stories are all in the wrong order, and some of them disappear from time to time, along with reviews ect. Is this just me or have things been going a little strange for you too? Never mind, though, it's not that important!

In case anyone is interested: I wrote a short one-shot and posted it. It's called Forever Friends, about young Dastan and Bis. Just something that came into my head and I had to type it out. Would appreciate some review's to know what you think! :D

**TashaB** - Thanks for the Zolm compliment! He's such a brilliant character! Unfortunately no D/T angst yet, but they'll be back next chapter!  
**Holding Infinity** - I love that you're reading this without any previous Prince of Persia knowledge XD If anything happens in the story that confuses you, drop me a line and I'll explain the background to it!  
**Starfish - **Yes I love my OC too. She's great fun to write. I have full intentions for D/T fluff fest, but it might be a few chapters away. You're going to have to wait for it! xx

Another Zolm/OC chapter, but our lovely Tamina and Dastan shall return in the next one! Thanks again for reading, and help me keep sane by leaving a review if you'd be so kind!

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 3 - A Night With The Gypsy  
**

With hawk eyes, he watched her devouring the plate of goat stew that had been placed in front of her. It had probably been the first time that she'd had a decent meal in weeks by her appearance. Outside the light was dimming, and the inn keeper was lighting candles and lamps around the room.  
"You not going to eat?" she asked through a mouthful of food, taking the first break to speak since she had begun eating.

"Denial strengthens resolve," he replied simply.

"Suit yourself," she muttered, and continued to stuff her face in a most unladylike manner.

Around the eating room of the inn, unwelcome eyes were giving them scorn. They had seen the young woman's appearance and concluded immediately that she was most probably a prostitute, whom he was planning to copulate with. Everyone knew it happened, but it was a private matter, and to dine with her in public was to bring disgrace on himself and the inn. That was what the brothels were for. Needless to say, Zolm paid their contemptuous glances no heed.

Nasreen took another break from her food.  
"Do you have a name?" she queried, "I'm Nasreen, but I suppose you already know that by now."

He didn't answer; he had no desire to humour her. She was much less interesting when she wasn't being threatened.

"Fine, if you don't want to tell me your name, then what's your business in Nasaf?"

More pointless conversation, but he couldn't resist answering this one.  
"I was visiting an old friend," he replied, allowing himself a brief moment of amusement at the statement. The hinted smile gave a sense of villainy about his face.

"He speaks!" she cried with mock surprise.

"I'm no mute," he answered plainly, "Words are valuable and I have no desire to waste them."

She traced her slender fingers around her wooden cup of cheap wine. Then, those startling eyes looked up at him, piercing so deep that it would have made a lesser man feel somewhat threatened. He wondered if this was what people thought, if they were lucky enough to get close enough to look into his eyes and live.

"What do _you_ want to talk about then?" she queried.

He pondered for a moment, wondering if there was actually something which he wished to know. In fact, there was.

"Why do you invest in stealing? Surely there's a more," he paused and raked his eyes over her as to make a point, "lucrative and obvious option for a _woman_ such as yourself."

She arched a slender eyebrow.  
"You mean why I am not spread eagle on the floor of a brothel while some man screws me?"

Again, the frankness of her words surprised him. She didn't talk, or act for that matter, like any other women he'd ever met. He shrugged in response, giving her a look that said: _Those are your words, not mine._

"It's simple," she explained, "I may not have a coin to my name, but I still have some self-respect. Besides, who's to say that stealing isn't so lucrative when you're as good as me. I'm in a nice tavern, eating a healthy meal, and I'm about to spend the night on a comfortable straw mattress with a roof over my head. I'd say things are pretty lucrative for me right now!"

He was about to argue the point, that she hadn't in fact been given her bed for the night, _yet_, but he decided not to.

She lifted the wooden goblet, drained the wine and slammed it down on the table much like a rowdy soldier in a garrison drink house.

"Now it's my turn to ask you something."

"We had no such agreement," Zolm commented.

"But it's only fair," she teased, pursing her lips. "So, what, of mysterious one, is your name?"

He averted her eyes in annoyance. Surely there was something of greater interest to her than his name? What about the pouch she was concealing between her breasts, wasn't she curious about it?

"Well?" she prompted impatiently.

Meeting her eye, he remained silent.

Disgruntled, she stood up from the cushion on which she had been sat for the meal.  
"Fine, if you're not going to answer me, then I might as well turn in for the night. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me to my room?"

Although she had been annoyed at his refusal to answer her question, her mood was still playful. Zolm raised himself from his perch, slowly and with pristine control over his every movement. He brushed past her, making his way toward the direction of the stairs to the rented rooms.

"I believe you mean _my_ room," he correct as he took the key from beneath his robes and unlocked the door.

"Are we sharing then?" was her flirtatious question as she entered through the door he held open for her. A small lamp in the corner had been lit, and shed enough light to be able to see. The room was cramped and mattress was raised up from the floor on a small wooden platform. A small window led to the world outside, and a stool rested below it. On the stool was a bowl of water and a cloth, presumably for washing.

"I have no need of beds. I plan on spending tonight in meditation," he replied. He would have relished a night of slumber to prepare for his impending journey, but he couldn't risk losing consciousness while she carried both his precious incense and had access to numberous weapons.

Without another word she glided over to the stool and shrugged off her outer robe. It was the first time she'd removed her hood since he had met her and he could see now that her black hair cascaded all the way down her back, almost reaching her hips. She wore a long purple tunic that would have once been a very vivid purple or blue, but was now so worn and faded that it was impossible to tell. The loose pantaloons she wore underneath were the pale brown of a fabric that hadn't been dyed, and the slippers on her feet were frayed.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as she caught him looking. As she sat down on the bed to remove her slippers, he began to remove his outer clothing. The heavy travelling cloak was removed first and folded with painstaking precision. Everything he wore was black, and she wondered how he could stand the heat. Leaving her footwear on the floor she sat on the bed and watched him as he slowly undid the turban around his head. Underneath, his black hair was short and greasy, and she was shocked by how pale his skin appeared, even in the dim light.

"I can see you don't spend much time in the sun," Nasreen remarked as she hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

The ghost of a smile played on his lips.  
"Although I was born here, my birth parents were from the cold North. My father was a merchant, or so I've been told."

"So you didn't know them," she guessed accurately. He shot her a look that was both irritated and confused.

"You said they were your birth parents, implying that they weren't the parents that you grew up to know. Please, go on."

Once again she was infuriatingly good judge of people. He hesitated. His past was something that he never really talked about, not even to his Hassansin brothers. Then, he threw caution into the desert winds. Besides, she would probably work it out for herself sooner or later.

"The story I was told, is that when I was born and my father first saw my eyes, he declared me a demon who must be destroyed. He tried to throw me on the fire, to '_send me back to the fiery hell from whence I came_' and he nearly succeeded."  
To aid the short tale, he turned his head to left to reveal the right side of his face. She already knew that his cheek had been scarred, but now she could see that the disfigurement continued. His right ear was partially marred and mangled, and the injury continued down his neck and disappeared under his shirt.

"But one of my mother's serving girls rescued me. She couldn't bear to see an _innocent_..." He paused at the word innocent, as if it amused him, "... child suffer. She offered to take me. She was dismissed from service at once, of course. A caravan of nomads found her wandering in the desert soon after and took her in. Naturally, she married one of them and they were the parents I knew."

He ended the tale here, fearing that any more would reveal too much of his part in the sacred Hassansin brotherhood.

"How wonderfully tragic," she sighed.

He made no further comment. Arranging himself on the floor he was preparing to enter into his meditation. Glancing up once more, he could see that she was still staring at him. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"That doesn't look very comfortable," she purred, then patted the mattress beside her, "There's room enough here for two."

He closed his eyes, but continued to speak.  
"For one who said she was uninterested in the life of a _whore_, you're doing a remarkably good job of acting like one."

He would have expected his words to sting her, but instead of taking offence, she just giggled.  
"At least this way I can choose with whom I share a bed with. So, what do you say?"

He opened one eye, like a dozing cat which had been disturbed.  
"Regretfully," he replied, without any hint of the aforementioned _regret_, "I must decline."

"As you please," she sighed and before he close his eye again, he watched her curl up on the bed.

The sensation of something being awry snapped him out of his meditations as the first morning light was breaking on the horizon. His senses had not failed him. Nasreen was climbing out the window.

Instinctively, he grabbed his small eating knife from the pocket of his robes and hurled it at her. She dodged and although it missed her it caught her robes, pinning her to the frame of the opening. Zolm jumped up to seize her but she just tugged until her garment ripped and jumped down on the first level roof of the building beside the inn. Landing with feline accuracy she turned and looked up into his thunderstruck face. She kissed the palm of her hand waved a goodbye. Then she leapt down onto the street below, using a pile of sheep's wool beside the house to soften her landing. She disappeared from sight into the darkness of the early morning.

He banged his fist furiously against the wall so forcefully that he left an imprint on the hardened mud wall. The little devil had managed to escape him. He had deliberately meditated instead of sleeping so as to prevent something like _this_ from happening. There was nothing for it. If he was to complete his mission for Nizam he needed that incense back, and that meant tearing Nasaf down bit by bit until he found her. Whirling around to put the remainder of his clothing on he was halted by the sight of the bed she'd been sleeping in. The ragged blanket she had slept under was neatly folded and placed on top of it, was the little leather pouch.

Confused, he picked it up, and sniffed the contents.

It was his precious vision inducing essence, in full. Binding the string at the top closed, he puzzled over what had just happened. It was worth a fortune; she had guessed that much early on. It could have bought her several months' worth of food and lodging if she had managed to sell it right. She was a thief who had kept her bargain. Now _there _was a foreign concept.

He shook his head disbelievingly, and began to dress. He had a long journey ahead of him.

Two weeks later, his brush with the gypsy girl in Nasaf was forgotten as he stood behind the Princess Tamina's dressing screen listening to a late night exchange between her and her betrothed Prince Dastan. He grinned with wicked glee at the pleasure of his being there unseen. If only they knew what awaited both of them.

He positively tingling with anticipation.


	5. Chapter 4: Lost And Found

**Authors Notes: **2/3 exams done and I'm going to celebrate with another chapter!

Review replies:  
Starfish: Oh, I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty more of Nasreen sometime soon! ;)  
Sorree: That's a shame, I love Zolm! :3 But then again, I have a thing for bad boys! Hehe... But thank you for saying I've developed his character well, I'm flattered!

Only two reviews on the last chapter? I don't do this for the reviews, I do it to shut up the mini Dastan, Tamina, Zolm, and whoever else is roaming around in my overactive brain. If you're a writer though, you know how good a review feels, and when I got 9 on chapter 2 it was just amazing. It would be nice to hear from you, see what you like, or even what you didn't like. I'm open to criticism! But, I will continue to write even if no-one's reading!

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Lost and Found**

Zolm watched eagerly as the dark snake slithered over the sleeping body of the Alamutian princess. The confrontation between the Persian prince and her had been somewhat delightful. To watch them both so clearly without being noticed gave him immense pleasure.

When the princess had threatened to call her guards, he had momentarily been alarmed at the very real possibility of discovery. When they hadn't come at her call, she would have opened her door to find them slumped as if in sleep. The real truth that they were dead would have been discovered shortly after, and the palace would have been sent into chaos. A small hindrance, he thought, in completing his task. Thankfully, she had failed to go through with her threat.

His thin lips moved quickly as he whispered to the snake. Anyone else wouldn't have heard a sound, yet the black asp could easily understand its command and reared its head for the strike. Not to kill, she had been instructed, only to stun. As she brought her venom filled fangs down on Tamina's pure skin, it hisser ferociously and dropped onto the marble floor, writhing as if in agony. Zolm stepped quickly forward to comfort the creature.

"The rumours are true," he mused as he looked down on the face of the princess as she continued to sleep; blissfully unaware of what was going on. The serpent retreated up her master's cloak with an air of defeat.

Everyone knew that Alamut was a Holy city. However, he hadn't predicted the unnatural force which had prevented the snake from causing her harm. Maybe there was more to this god worship than he had given it credit.

"We shall have to do this the old way then," he declared.

From inside his robes he produced a vial of liquid. Taking a leaf from Nizam's book, he had invested in an ulterior plan. He grabbed a piece of cloth that lay on a chair by her bed and began to fold it with precision until it formed a neat square of fabric. Zolm poured the concoction onto the cloth until it was sufficiently soaked. Then he pressed it, firmly, over Tamina's nose and mouth.

The princess awoke with a start and screamed through the material. Her sound was muted and almost immediately her terror filled eyes began to droop. Within moments, she was unconscious. Zolm removed the cloth and then reached out with his hand. He drew a finger down her cheek with a flash of menace in his eyes.

"Sleep princess," he whispered, "It will be done by morning."

* * *

Dastan was awake early, as usual. Since the raid on Alamut, he had vowed to Tamina that as penance for his part in the attack, and as proof of his loyalty to her, he would spend a few hours every day working on the repairs to the city. His wedding day would be no exception.

To the east, they were rebuilding some of the sacred pathways to the Sand Glass which had been purposefully collapsed when it had been clear the Persian army would breach the walls. To the south, they were rebuilding the part of the town that had fallen victim to the catapulting. This was where he was working today.

Usually, he would work until lunch, but today, he would break earlier, so as to have time to prepare himself for the formalities later in the day. Bis and the rest of Dastans 'street rabble' as Garsiv liked to refer to them were helping too, although it was completely voluntary. It was his atonement, but they had insisted. The loyalty of his men always astounded him, and he was grateful for it.

"Pass it round," he directed as a boy arrived with a large canteen of water. When it came to him, he drank deeply. They were rebuilding a section of houses and there were many people who had gathered to watch the 'Lion' of Persia reduced to the work of slaves and carpenters. He felt a little bit helpless as he was certainly not a builder by nature, and could only provide basic assistance such as digging and lifting.

"Aeesha! Come away!" a voice called and as Dastan turned around to see a small girl had wandered in amongst the builders. She couldn't have been more than six years old, and was looking at him with her large, brown eyes.

"This is my house," she said, pointing to the ruined building that they were clearing rubble from.

"Is it?" Dastan asked with a smile, as he lowered himself on his haunches, so as to be at the child's eye level.

"The Persian's destroyed it," she continued, and Dastan had to look away for a moment in shame. It was easy to forget the innocent victims of war in the heat of battle. What if she had been in this house at the time of the assault? An image of the little girl, lying dead in a mass of rubble flashed onto his mind, sending an unwelcome shiver down his spine.  
"Papa say's bad things about the Persians. I don't think he likes them very much."

"If I was your father," Dastan replied, "I wouldn't like the Persian's very much either."

"Aeesha, please!"

A veiled woman stepped forward and grabbed the girl by the hand. Her eyes, although scared, held contempt. He was almost certain it was aimed at him and not the child.

"It's alright," Dastan said, "She's no trouble."

He wanted to say something to her, an apology on behalf of his people maybe, but the disgrace was too great. If he could have chosen to, he would have gone further back in time and done all he could to expose his Uncle before they'd even gotten as far as Alamut. The downside to this was that he would never have met Tamina. Perhaps he would have tried to court her formally, but all the 'what if's' were pointless. He had to live in the here and now.

The woman hurried away, having picked the child up in her arms. Just then, he noticed a group of men on horses coming towards him from the other end of the long street.

"Dastan!" the man at the head of the group yelled as they approached and he recognised the voice of his bother Garsiv.

"Brother!" Dastan shouted back with a smile, "To what do I owe the honour?"

His greeting was joyous, but as Garsiv approached he could sense that there was something gravely wrong.

"Dastan," he said curtly, "I'm sorry to be the bearer of this bad news, but… the princess has vanished."

In the moment that it took Dastan to digest this knowledge, Bis had stepped up from where he was working and laughed.

"Got cold feet, has she?" he jested, slapping his friend on the back. Dastan shot him a sobering look that wiped the silly smile from his face.

The look on the elder prince's face was that of mild disgust at the vastly inappropriate comment of his brother's right hand man.  
"I doubt that she would have gone to the trouble of killing her own guards over a bit of pre-wedding nerves," he said venomously. He turned back to face Dastan.

"All of the palace guards have been mobilised in the search, don't worry, we'll find her."

"I'm coming with you," the younger prince said immediately.

Garsiv smiled in agreement.  
"I thought as much."

He threw his brother the reins of an unmanned horse in their company and Dastan leapt onto the back. Bis and his fellow men watched in sobered silence as their prince and his brother galloped through the streets.

"Where have the guards been sent?" Dastan yelled to his brother, over the noise of the beating hooves.

"To the North, South, and West. We ride East."

Dastan nodded, having nothing further to say. Then he sent up a silent prayer, to any gods listening, that she would be found alive and unharmed.

* * *

Holding a little phial of liquid between his thumb and forefinger, Zolm watched as the sun peeped over the distant dunes, shining its first rays through the little glass bottle. He smiled at the pleasing colour of the blood within.

Tamina was laid on makeshift bed in the sand by the trees, so that she would be shaded if she failed to wake by the time the sun's heat was at its strongest. A small stream trickled behind her, something that would be much needed when she roused. The drug which was still affecting her, would make her thirsty when she roused.

The Hassansin pocketed the precious substance and turned back to look at her. He dropped to his knees beside her. Leaning down, he brushed some of her silky black hair aside and spoke gently into her ear. A grin that was reminiscent of a hellish demon, passed over his pale lips.

"Thank you, your highness," he breathed, "Your contribution to the cause is invaluable."

Their journey hadn't been necessary; no doubt he would have managed to extract her blood somehow, without leaving the mysterious protectiveness of her city. However, this way he could cause a stir, and throw his enemies off guard. It wasn't his usual style, but while all the guards were looking for their precious princess, he would slip into the city unnoticed.

Suddenly, she began to move. The drug was finally beginning to wear and these movements were the beginnings of her waking process. Zolm remained motionless until she breathed a sigh and ceased her movements. The Hassansin raked his icy eyes over her face as if her beauty possessed him. Then whatever way the princess held her face in sleep, he was immediately struck by the thought of Nasreen. He wondered casually what had happened to the gypsy thief he'd crossed paths with in Nasaf, but the notion was fleeting and he pushed her to the back of his mind again. His horse stamped the ground impatiently and Zolm realised that they would have noticed her missing by now. They weren't far from the city walls, and if he wanted to avoid a confrontation, he'd have to leave. He jumped onto the large black warhorse.

With a cry, he kicked the flanks and the beast took off like a crossbow bolt, disappearing into the cloud of upset dust and sand, which whirled around him like a tornado.

* * *

_Tamina was gone. _This was the only thing that Dastan's mind could concentrate on as he and Garsiv, along with some of Garsiv's cavalry, rode out of Alamut. They rode east, towards the valley of the slaves.

He began to puzzle over her disappearance. Who had taken her? There was the possibility of a jealous leader from another land, who had been planning to make a political match with Tamina. To think of another man touching her enraged him and he had to quickly think of another explanation before he was driven mad with envy.

She could have been taken for ransom. It was no secret that the riches inside Alamut's walls were plentiful, and the people would have paid any price for their beloved Princess.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Garsiv, and the elder brother had to repeat himself.

"Dastan!" he snapped loudly, "Are you even listening to me?"

The younger prince looked up dumbly.

"I was saying, we're going to have to stop by that stream there. It's the last place for water that we know of in this direction. We would do well to water the horses and fill our canteens! We had no time for that before we left."

Dastan wanted to protest that they had already lost precious time on Tamina's captors, but a small part of his brain which was still functioning logically agreed with Garsiv. They could be searching for days and it was sensible to plan ahead.

With a nod of agreement, Dastan and his brother steered their mounts towards the distant trees. Their men at arms followed.

As he knelt by the stream, Dastan filled cupped hands with water and splashed it on his sweaty and dusty face. The cool spring water on his face gave him a shock and, for the first time since he'd learnt of Tamina's disappearance, he felt as though he was thinking straight. And then, the idea came to him.

"We should follow the stream," he voiced, "If they came this way, then they would have had to stop for water, right? We might come across some sign of them."

Garsiv nodded in agreement.  
"And we'll walk, to save the horses."

Although the Persian horses were noted for their impressive stamina, their strength still knew limits.

So, the small group set off downstream. The horses hooves splashed in the water, Garsiv and his men talked, but Dastan remained silent as he led his mount slowly. While he was buried in his own thoughts, he scanned the ground, constantly searching for any tell-tale signs of hoof or foot prints. He was concentrating so hard that he forgot to look up occasionally.

"Look!" a voice from behind him called.

Dastan glanced quickly over his should to see where he was being told to cast his gaze. The guard was pointing directly in front of him and as he turned around, he could immediately see what had caused the fuss. About 200 hundred paces in front of him, a figure emerged from their hiding place behind a weather beaten tree. Even from afar, she was unmistakable.

"Tamina!" he yelped for joy. Dropping the reins of his horse, he ran toward her, soaking himself as he kicked and splashed through the stream. Dastan wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and fling her around in elation. However, as he approached he could see her face was pale and she was unsteady, and slow to react. He had to settle with taking her gently by the shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked eagerly.

Tamina took a confused moment to consider this, then replied, "Yes… I think so."

"You're not hurt?" he persisted, checking her for signs of wounds.

"I'm fine," she insisted, "But I don't know what I'm doing here."  
Her voice was shaky and for a rather worrying moment, Dastan thought she was going to burst into tears. Emotional women terrified him.

"You were kidnapped, and probably drugged by the looks of you," Garsiv said as he approached. He handed back the reins of the horse and gave his younger brother a reproachful look for leaving the animal at his heel. Dastan didn't even seem to notice.

"You gave me such a fright," he whispered to her.

"I thank you for your concern Prince," she replied formally.

Her gratitude sounded forced rather than sincere and it wounded him a little. Last night he had been sure they'd made progress. Now, he wasn't convinced. But no matter, she was safe and that was his main concern. Even as he thought about it, he felt giddy with relief.

"You know," he chuckled, "We had ever single palace guard out looking for you and you weren't even that far from…"

"What?" Tamina spluttered suddenly.

Dastan was baffled.

"What did you _just_ say?" was her demand as her brown eyes blazed with accusation.

"Every palace guard is out looking for you?"

Tamina gritted her teeth.  
"Including the ones guarding the high temple?" she continued, her voice getting higher and higher.

Realisation flashed in his eyes, and Dastan's face fell. All that he could muster in reply was, "Oh…"

"You idiot!" she screeched, kicking sand at him in rage, "How could you be so stupid?"

Dastan looked sheepish. He wanted to tell her that Garsiv had ordered the mass exodus of guards from the palace but she spoke again.

"Take me to Alamut,_ now_!"

Obediently, he climbed up onto the horse and offered out his hand to help her up. With anger burning on her face, she took his hand and was hoisted effortlessly.

Garsiv looked at his brother and then the princess in turn, confused as to what in the gods the last few moments between them had been about.

"I'll explain later," Dastan rushed, "I'll see you back at the palace!"

He cracked the reins and his horse broke into a gallop.

"If you know so much about the dagger," Tamina hissed in his ear, "Why would you leave it unguarded? Don't you know how important and sacred it is? If it's gotten into the wrong hands…"

"Of course I know," he snapped irritably, "Forgive me if I was more concerned with _your_ safety than that of the dagger."

"I'm thrilled that you would choose me, Dastan, over the fate of humanity," she sneered.

"It's not as easy as that…"

"Oh, _do_ elaborate."

He sighed heavily, as his anger melted away into a heartfelt admission.  
"I cannot choose between you and the world when, to me, those are both one in the same."

As the meaning of his words revealed themselves to her, Tamina was struck dumb. Had his words been said in any other manner she would have found them foolish and patronising. But the sincerity that had been held within them had startled her and she remained silent for a long time. To Dastan, who couldn't see her face as she wrestled with this new knowledge, her silence meant offence, or disgust, or indifference. Combined with her cold greeting earlier upon her rescue, he had it settled in his mind that he had some serious work to do if he was ever to win her heart.

The next time someone spoke, Alamut was within sight.

"I'm sorry," he said as soft as it was possible and still be heard over the rushing wind and pounding hooves.

"We shall see soon enough whether your apologies are necessary Prince. Save them for now."


	6. Chapter 5: Politics and Plots

**Authors notes:** Exams are over! Ah, I have never been so relieved! University (College for the American's out there!) is so much more intense than school! But, I'm finished now, and classes don't start again until the 31st January!

Another chapter, longest one yet! I'm upping my minimum word count from 2,000 to 3,000 which may mean some more skipping between plot lines, but otherwise this thing's going to drag on forever, and from past experiences, if it goes on too long, I'll lose enthusiasm which I definatly don't want to do... I HATE not finishing stories.

Oh, and something you should be pleased about: FLUFF. Yes there's fluff, a little bit, but fluff none the less. If sweet/romantic moments turn your stomach, please go and fetch a bucket :)

xoxoktk: Nice to see you on board! Bad boys are the best ;) But I'll happily take the goodies too, as long as their a bit rough around the edges, like... Dastan for example! Lol. Thanks for all the lovely things you said in your review!  
Starfish: Hassansins are ALWAYS up to something. It shall all be revealed in the next chapter! Big drama going down XD  
Sorree: Zolm and his snakes. I kind of hate snakes, but as far as Zolm's concerned, I think I could learn to love them too ;) Thanks for your reviews, I really appreciate them xx

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Politics and Plots**

The moment Dastan drew up his horse at the main steps of the palace at Alamut, Tamina slid from its back unaided. She hit the ground and grunted, as her bare feet provided her no protection from the impact. But even the pain couldn't deter her as she sprinted up the steps two at a time, past the ornate golden elephants at the foot of the long staircase. Remembering his earlier carelessness, Dastan made sure that he handed his reins to a very bemused looking man at arms.

In the few weeks that he'd been here, in this timeline and the previous, he could find his way adequately around the palace. However, he would have to catch up with her soon, as the location of the fabled high temple was kept a secret to all outsiders.

Serving girls and other palace staff jumped out of his way as he sprinted down corridors and up flights of steps. At one point he nearly ran into his eldest brother.

"Dastan!" he cried with both concern and amusement.

"Not now, Tus!" he said curtly as he skirted out of his path.

Then, he _did_ run into someone. An old priest was standing in the middle of the corridor, and Dastan skidded to a halt on the marble floor to avoid knocking into him.

"Persian Prince!" he noticed in surprise. Even in his haste Dastan noticed that he had been referred to as the 'Persian' prince. He was supposed to have been married to Tamina today, thus putting himself in the Alamutian lineage, but he suspected that it would take a long time for them to accept him as their own Prince.  
"The Princess has returned! Gods be praised for this wonderful news!"

"Yes, which way did she go?" Dastan asked breathlessly.

"I think she's gone to the high temple, no doubt to thank the Gods for her safe return."

"Where is it?"

"End of the corridor." The old man spoke with infuriating slowness, "Then turn left and follow that to the end. You will come to a set of stairs, and you will find the temple at the top. Don't worry, I'll show you the way."

But Dastan had already bolted. If the dagger was gone, he would be angry. But if the thieves were still lying in wait, and something happened to Tamina, he would _never_ forgive himself.

He rounded the last corner of the spiral staircase, and saw the big ornate wooden doors of the temple were ajar. Tamina was praying loudly, and he was suddenly struck by a need to be respectful. He gently pushed the door open and slowly made his way around the room checking behind the pillars with his sword drawn. When he had decided that the coast was clear, he sheathed the weapon and decided to watch and listen to Tamina.

After a few more moments, the cage where the dagger was kept began to open. To a stranger, it would have appeared that the Gods themselves were sliding back the doors of the enclosure. However, being a natural sceptic, Dastan had scanned the room thoroughly and could see the turning mechanism hidden just out of plain sight. It was carefully weighted, he guessed, timed to perfection to coincide with the opening prayers.

The sunlight shone through as the cage opened and Dastan had to shield his eyes and squint through the brightness to try to see whether or not the dagger was in its proper place.

It was.

He let out a long breath and he felt as though his knees might buckle with the relief. Moving his gaze to the Princess, he watched as she turned her head around. She was smiling and tears of pure joy trickled down her face. It was infections, and Dastan couldn't help but smile back. He walked over and offered to help her from the floor. She accepted his hands.

"See," he said gently as she was lifted to her feet, "Nothing to worry about."

Then, she embraced him, pressing her tear stained face to his shirt. Dastan felt pleasantly surprised by her open and unexpected show of emotion.

But as suddenly as she had hugged him, she broke away, and her face no longer registered glee, but rather a scowl. He reeled at the speed of which a woman's emotions could shift. In annoyance, she kicked his skin with her foot, forgetting they were bare. The impact seemed to hurt her more than him, which enflamed her further.

"How could you be so stupid not to check on it before you left!" she grumbled.

He opened his mouth to apologise but was interrupted as a flurry of her handmaidens burst into the room. Tamina was met with a barrage of questions, all concerning her health. One girl, after the initial interrogation, asked in a small voice, "What about the wedding?"

Tamina threw a contemptuous glance in the Prince's direction.  
"Certainly not today," she replied coldly, and turned and left.

* * *

The daylight was fading fast as Tamina stood on the small stool. One of the maids was cleaning her feet with a special solution so as to make the henna tattoos last longer on her skin. Another maid attended to her hand. She was supposed to have them done the morning of her wedding, but she had decided to have them done now. The tingling sensation on her skin, as the cool ink was placed in the complex patterns relaxed her. She could use the relaxation after the trials of the day.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain on her arm where the maid was cleaning her skin. She gasped, and the girl who had been working their squeaked in alarm.

"I'm so sorry Princess!"

Tamina examined the place which had hurt and discovered a small mark. She must have caught herself on a thorn, she decided.

"It's alright," she soothed, "You may continue."

They were mixing up the henna dye when there was a loud thud from the other side of the room. Something had crashed through the curtain of her balcony. The maids all screamed together and Tamina swung her head around to look. Sprawling on the floor of her room was the Persian Prince.

Quickly he got up and held his hands up to protest innocence.

"Prince Dastan, to what do we owe the honour?" she asked coolly, stepping down from the stool.

"What did you do," he asked, turning around to inspect the seemingly innocent curtain which had uncharacteristically tripped him

"I laid a trap, and it seems as though I have succeeded in catching a rat."  
It would have sounded like she was teasing him, but her face held no hint of a jest. She had asked for a small string to be placed across the gap, she didn't like the thought of the Prince being able to enter her room as he pleased with his trick of jumping up walls and over balconies.

"Princess, might I have a word?" he requested.

"Most people seeking an audience with me usually knock on the door. Or perhaps you forgot yourself Prince. Might I remind you that we weren't actually married today, and you still have no right to enter my room without permission, especially like a thief through my balcony?"

The maids giggled, and Tamina was relishing in the look of embarrassment and awkwardness on his face at being chastised like this. He couldn't defend himself, because he knew that every word from her lips was the truth, he had no right to be there. But after the events of earlier, he had been compelled to seek her out and explain. He desperately sought her favour, the last thing he wanted to do was marry someone who loathed him. Perhaps sneaking into her room wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't in possession of the dagger, and this was one action he couldn't reverse.

"Please," he begged.

She regarded him dispassionately for a moment, then without breaking the gaze she motioned for her attendants to leave.

"But don't stray too far. And tell the guards to be extra attentive; I may need their assistance if the Prince forgets his _manners_."

Giggling still, they left Dastan and Tamina alone.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Tamina spoke.  
"Well?" she demanded.

"Don't be angry with me Tamina," he pleaded.

"Why shouldn't I?" she snapped, "You've just scared my maids half to death, and you have entered my room without permission, _once again_."

"I just wanted to talk with you in private. Would you have let me in had I come to the door?"

Tamina considered this and decided no, she wouldn't have. The prince read the expression on her face perfectly.

"See, I was right. So the only way I could be sure I would see you was this way."

She gave him a contemptuous look, but said nothing. Dastan came forward to stand in front of her.

"I just wanted to say sorry for earlier. Garsiv ordered the guards removed to search for you, not me. But I should have thought, and I didn't and I'm sorry." Then with a mischievous smile he added, "I was so distraught by the news of your disappearance that I couldn't think of anything but you. For a moment, I thought you might have run away so that you wouldn't have to marry me."

"Run away?" she blurted in disbelief, "And leave my people, this city, and the sacred duty to which I have been bound all my life? You do not know me at all Prince."

"I guess not," he smiled ruefully, "I just thought that you would have wanted to avoid me and the… marriage."

"I accepted your proposal, did I not?" she snapped.

"Under duress! There was an army at your door, of course you would have accepted."

"Your brother made me no threat. His offer was friendship, and then he suggested that we be united by bonds stronger. I was under _no_ duress."

"I find it hard to believe that you would _willingly_ accept a stranger, especially based on the events which preceded it. I want to know whether what we'll do tomorrow will be nothing but politics, or if I can dare to hope of something more. Why did you say yes to me?"

"You tell me Dastan!" she said loudly, and in a voice so full of pent up emotion that it startled him a little.  
"You tell me," she repeated, "Because _I don't know_. I should hate you, all of you! You destroyed part of my city and invaded like the pack of ruthless desert dogs that you are. You're right, I didn't know you. But… that moment you stepped forward, I did. Why do I feel like I know you? Please tell me because I can only begin to imagine."

Dastan swallowed, and was about to speak but Tamina interrupted again.

"My mother used to tell me that the Sands of Time were exactly that. Sand. No matter how hard you tried to sweep it up, some would always remain. Tell me why you handed me back a dagger empty of sand, when I know perfectly well that it was full when it left my hands the night your army attacked."

He took a moment to compose his thoughts. Then he began.

"Do you remember one of the first things you said to me, that day in the garden, after I told you that I was no longer the same man who breeched your walls?"

Tamina nodded.  
"That's a short time for a man to change so much," she recalled.

"It wasn't a short time. Not by any stretch of the imagination. My uncle had a terrible plot, and he wanted to use the dagger and the sands, to go back to when he and my father were just boys. He wanted to stop himself from saving my father's life on a hunting trip so that he would become the rightful king."

"That's impossible," she gasped, "How could he have known about the dagger, it's a sacred secret!"

"I don't know," he lied. Some of the Hassansins were former guardian's of her religion. It would have broken her heart to learn of their treachery.

"Please, tell me everything," she urged.

Dastan shook his head.  
"Forgive me Tamina, but I won't. Like I said, those events changed me. I am ashamed of the man I was before, and I don't wish to speak of him. I don't want you to think any worse of me than you already do."

Tamina sighed in frustration. Then, she met his eyes and all her anger melted away.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Dastan's small smile made her heart miss a beat. No matter how hard she wanted to, she couldn't hold a grudge against him when he looked at her like this.  
"I have been told that before," he chuckled.

"So you really won't tell me?" she asked, hoping that one last plea might change his mind.

"Maybe one day," he said noncommittally, "When I'm sure that you won't despise me for the things I did."

_Like sell you into the service of Sheik Amar,_ he thought to himself.

Silence wrapped around them and they just smiled, then, laughed at the silence, releasing the awkward tension.

"I think you better leave," she said finally, but with a small hint of regret, "The servants will talk."

"They'll talk anyway," he muttered softly, moving towards her. The beating beneath her chest became faster, and it was so loud that she was sure that it could be heard all throughout Alamut.

"Dastan…"  
It was a warning, but even as she gave it, she wasn't sure whether or not she actually meant it.

"Do I dare to hope of something between us greater than politics, or shall I say goodbye with just words?" he asked coyly, with a raise of one eyebrow. The last time he'd kissed her, she had been caught off guard. Now, she was fully aware of his intentions. A battle raged inside of her. Her head knew that the protocol for such things was to decline, but her heart wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms like the princesses in the stories her mother had told her when she was a girl.

Having made up her mind for her, Dastan put a hand on her neck, and when she made no attempt to resist, pulled her face gently to meet his. Their lips connected in such a way that set her whole body tingling. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, remembering the time as a girl, the son of a visiting dignitary had taught her how to kiss.

Their mouths moved together in a soft and hesitant way that showed both of them were afraid of displeasing the other in some manner. The short hair on Dastan's chin and upper lip tickled her, but she didn't mind. They remained like that for some time, testing the waters, as they tried to find a particular rhythm that suited them both. Much to the Persian's disappointment, Tamina broke away.

"I… think that's enough…" she said, a tad breathlessly.

"What's the matter," he teased in a low voice, his face still dangerously close to hers, "Don't you trust yourself?"

Tamina moved backwards, giving a little gasp of shock at his cheeky words.

"_Myself?_" she asked indignantly, "It's you my dear Prince who I don't trust."

He smiled, in that devastating way that only he could. The sparkle in his eyes only confirmed her accusation. He took her hand, and without breaking his gaze, kissed it.

"Until tomorrow then," he said.

Her heart gave a nervous jerk. It was one thing to share a kiss, but the sudden thought of _consummating_ their marriage positively terrified her.

Dastan could sense her tension and his face changed from teasing to serious in an instant.  
"I meant what I said last night. If you need more time… I'll stay in my own room tomorrow night."

"After the vows are said, and the celebrations are over... we'll see," Tamina said hesitantly. She didn't want to commit herself to an answer right at this very moment.  
"Goodnight, Prince."

Her eyes seemed to swallow him up, and it took all of his strength to tear himself away from her and leave. He turned, and looked over his shoulder as he approached the balcony.  
"Sleep well, Princess."

This time, he made sure not to trip on the hidden threads.

* * *

The tavern was noisy, many men sat around discussing matters with loud and drunken voices. Somewhere, a musician was feverously plucking notes on a stringed instrument while a handful of girls in long flowing skirts, danced around the room.

In a dark corner, Zolm watched the proceedings. Before he left the inn that night, he had two things to accomplish, and neither of them involved drinking himself into a stupor or trading a coin for a night with one of the dancers. A shadowy figure pulled back the curtain over the door and entered warily, casting his eyes around as if searching for something. He saw the Hassansin, and approached him immediately.

"Brother Zolm," the stranger said as he approached the table where the snake master was sat.

Zolm smiled.  
"Brother Horus, I trust everything is in order."

"The rest of the brothers have sucessfully entered the city and are awaiting your next commands," he replied. Zolm waved a hand at the stool beside him, and the other obliged. As he moved his cloak, for the briefest of moments, two coils were visible, tied to the belt around his waist. While Zolm had command of both snake and sword, Horus was deadly skilled in the use of these two whips, tipped with vicious knives that could rip open the flesh of a body in single instance.

"Good. Have you brought what I requested?"

Horus took out a small roll of parchment and laid it out on the little table between them. The map was roughly sketched, but would serve his purpose.

Horus spoke in an anxious whisper, "Brother, are you sure you want to go through, you're dealing with powers that…"

"Enough," Zolm cut across, "Thank you for your help. Tell the brothers to make themselves available, tomorrow we will be serving a new master, and he will no doubt need our help to secure the palace for himself."

"Secure the _palace_? Zolm, what in the name of the Gods are you planning?" Horus asked in disbelief.

"You will know soon enough. And you know that this is not _my_ plan."

"Not Nizam again. The old fool is dead and he still thinks he owns us. Why are you still determined to…"

He stopped midsentence suddenly as he felt something at his leg. He shot a concerned look at Zolm, whose eyes were silently crackling with rage.

"Call her off," Horus pleaded quietly. There was no mistaking the cold presence slowly ascending his leg. He tensed, trying not to agitate the snake further, for fear of the venom in its fangs.

"You shouldn't question me," Zolm said calmly.

"I was merely voicing my concerns for this little _expedition. _I of course trust your ultimate judgement and motives. Now, _please_, stop this before someone gets hurt!"

Zolm smiled evilly, relishing in the panic rising on the brother's face. He, of course, would not hurt one of the brotherhood on purpose. He simply liked to remind them from time to time, who they had elected as their leader. Practically soundless, he muttered a few words and the snake retreated back to her master.

"You may leave. Prepare yourself for tomorrow."

With a hesitation, Horus bowed his head. His stool scraped on the floor as he stood up and left.

Zolm calmly processed the events that had happened. As he did, one of the tavern girls approach him.

"Can I get you another drink?" she asked. Without looking up, he shook his head and waved her away. She persisted.  
"How about a rat from the kitchen for that snake of yours?"

The Hassansin snapped his head up.  
"You," he breathed in disbelief.

"Well don't look so pleased," Nasreen teased, "People might start talking."

His face immediately fell into a frown.  
"What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? I'm working for a place to sleep tonight and a crust of bread for my supper!"

Zolm gritted his teeth in annoyance. The look on her face said she had understood exactly what he had meant in the first place, but was just being difficult.  
"Did you follow me?" he asked, barely managing to supress the anger in his voice.

"Depends what you mean by follow," she mused, those unforgettable eyes of hers flashing flirtatiously under a mass of dark eyelashes. "But it could just be an innocent coincidence."

He snorted, highly doubting that anything involving her could be innocent.

"Shouldn't you be serving drinks to those who actually want one?" he hissed.

"The more drinks I sell, the more I get to eat tonight, so I'm not leaving until you order a cup of wine."  
She raised an eyebrow expectantly as she balanced the wooden tray of empty goblets on her hip.

"I hope you enjoy waiting."  
Then, a thought came to him, and suddenly her persistence and unwelcome advances showed themselves with new usefulness.  
"Actually," he said hesitantly, "You may be able to help me with something."

"I offered it before for free but it's going to cost you this time…"

The look on his face was thunderous.  
"Do you want to earn the coin or not?" he spat.

"Fine," she sighed, giving up her games, "What do you need me to do?"


	7. Chapter 6: Resurrection

**Author notes:** Short note because it's 3am, but I really want to post this!

Review replies:

Mina: Thanks for the epically long review, really made me smile, and I love seeing which bits were your favourite! xx  
Sorree: I know exactly what you mean about the sparring between Dastan and Tamina. That's the great bits, and even though I plan to have them more romantically involved with each other in my story than the film, this won't change their arguments ;)  
Starfish: ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONA DIE! (That reference is totally wasted unless you've seen Despicable me XD) And yup, our favourite little Zolm antagonist is back!  
Vera1992: Well, thanks very much, i'm really flattered. Being told the characters follow the movie makes me really proud, as do your comments about the OC. Thanks, and hope you stick around to read the rest! xx  
WingedShadow: You left like a bazillion comments! My review counter really appreciates it, and so do I! And I tend to end on cliffhangers a lot... it may annoy the readers, but it sure as hell keeps them coming back.

Chapter warning - Long and (I don't know if this is a British saying that will be lost on non native english speakers/ americans but here goes) the... 'excriment' is about to hit the fan. Enjoy.

_Woffles92_

**

* * *

Chapter 6 – Resurrection **

Through the darkness, Zolm could see the people leaving the tavern. Their drunken ramblings and stumbling amused him somewhat. Most of them, he guessed from the angry words and rude gestures, would have preferred to have stayed all night, drinking themselves senseless. But the owner of the drinking house had a business to run, and when the men started getting too rowdy, it was time to shut.

His pale lips turned up in a smile as he saw her. She wasn't alone of course. That was part of the deal. To an onlooker if would simply have looked as though she was helping one of the more particularly inebriated men back to his house, though he hardly merited the description of man. Boy, would have been more accurate.

Nasreen spotted him standing in the alley and made her way over, her slight figure coping remarkably well with the weight of the strong young lad who was leaning against her and muttering incoherently.

"Perfect," Zolm grinned. His arm flung out and grabbed the boy by the throat, lifting his weight away from Nasreen.

She watched with fascination, where others would have looked on in dread as the drunken young man made a few pathetic bats of his hand to try and fend off the Hassansins grip.

The snake slithered silently down his arm to the hand that was grasped around the neck. It reared back its head, and then in one swift motion, it struck, and sank the long fangs into the soft flesh of the neck. Immediately, the boy went limp, as he entered into a state of unconsciousness.

"What are you going to do with him?" Nasreen asked when it was over, her eyes glistening with excitement.

"It's none of your concern," he muttered quickly, shifting the body so that it would look as though the boy was leaning on him for balance.

"_Oh_…" she grinned, "So that's why you haven't been very interested in me. You prefer a different sort of company?"

Zolm rolled his eyes as he begged for the strength not to slit her throat.  
"Why," he muttered under his breath, "must everything be about _desires_ to you?"

"Does anything else really matter?" she countered with a raise of her eyebrow.

"You are too young to understand," he said, "Not everything is about money, friends or lovers."

"How about power?"

He narrowed his eyes, annoyed that she had managed to strike the nail on the head. Changing the subject quickly, he said, "Thank you for your assistance."

Reaching inside his robes, he rooted around for the coin which he'd promised her.

"I don't want your money," she laughed.

"Then what?"

"I want your _name_."

"What is this obsession?" He demanded.

She shrugged, and although a mischievous smile danced across her lips, she didn't answer him. He took the coin from his pocket and tossed it to the ground at her feet.

"That was our agreement. Now, go back inside before I change my mind about paying you at all."

She picked up the little gold disc and slipped it inside a pouch that was tied to her belt.

He turned, and began to walk down the street, his pace somewhat hindered by the extra weight of the boy. A slightly eerie feeling began to wash over him and instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder.

Nasreen was still standing in the middle of the street, watching him with those all possessing eyes. There was something ethereal about the way her hair moved about her face in the slight breeze, and it stirred a feeling of unease deep in the pit of his stomach. He had killed countless foes without thought, slit the throats of dignitaries for a price, and casually slipped in and out of the well-guarded fortresses of the lands. But this, _creature_, had some unearthly power to unsettle him. Turning away, he tried not to let his thoughts dwell on her, for fear that it would cloud his resolve for the impending mission.

Following Horus' map wasn't difficult, he was skilled enough at drawing, and the layout of the streets was easy to follow. There had been several entrances to the fabled chamber of the sand glass. The ones marked with X's were the ones that had been collapsed in the Persian raid. Circle's marked the ones deemed too hidden to even be discovered by accident. He made his way to one of those.

It was by the wall to one of the lower walls of the palace. An ornate fountain covered the entrance, and as instructed on the parchment, he pressed three independent parts of the fountain. There was a little rumble, and a hole, just big enough for one person appeared in the wall.

He pushed the boy through first. Nizam had requested a young man, but he had failed to state in what condition.

Zolm followed after checking to make sure no-one could see him. The note had informed him that the hole would cover itself again after a few minutes. He considered waiting around until it did, just to make sure, but he was too anxious. The last few weeks had been accumulating to this, and he was eager to see if the impossible plans of a dead man would really work.

The tunnels were dark, and were his eyes not so good at adjusting it would have been near impossibly to negotiate them, especially with the cumbersome body he was trying to carry.

Suddenly, there was a noise in the darkness.

Zolm dropped the boy and unsheathed his sword. He frowned in the direction of sound, and his luminous blue eyes peered into the darkness. A movement caught his eyes and he lunged forward. The blade met with stone as the shadow dodged, and his blade connected with the tunnel wall.

"Careful!" a female voice hissed, "You'll have someone's eye out with that thing."

Disbelief was the first emotion that graced him, followed quickly by anger.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he hissed. Nasreen giggled.

"I followed you, of course. Life's so much more interesting with you around."

"Go back, _now_." His words were laced with venom and danger.

"I can't, it closed behind me," she said with a hint of bitterness. Perhaps she was regretting taking her little games quite this far.

Zolm debated whether or not to dispose of her right there. He couldn't risk her knowing about Nizam's plan. He raised his sword and gritted his teeth. If there had been enough light, Nasreen would have been able to see the wild look in his ice blue eyes as he held the weapon aloft, ready to strike. But as the seconds slipped slowly by, he remained in that position. His breathing was heavy, and every part of him screamed for the follow-through, but it was as though his muscles had frozen into place.

Then, a voice drifted through the tunnels and like he'd been splashed with cold water Zolm snapped out of his trance. He lowered the sword quickly and grabbed Nasreen pulling her roughly into the shadow of one of the pillars that had been constructed to hold the ceiling of the tunnel in place. He darted out and pushed the boy's body to the other side of the passage. Tendrils of light began to dance on the uneven walls and cast uneasy shadows. He sped back to the pillar where he'd left Nasreen.

As the priestess rounded the corner, she could be heard muttering to herself. It was impossible to tell whether or not her words were that of prayer, or if she was just voicing thoughts out loud. In the labyrinth of tunnels, he couldn't be sure if she was heading toward, or away from the chamber. If he was a gambling man, he would say the latter. He hoped that to her, they would just appear like more of the shadowy apparitions her burning torch was casting.

They were close, too close for his liking, but there was no other way for them to be hidden, and to be sure that Nasreen didn't do anything foolish. He tried to concentrate on anything but his proximity to her slight body, but was unable. Her luminous eyes were watching him with an emotion he couldn't place and he felt hot and uncomfortable under her gaze. A fire raged in the pit of his stomach and he imagined taking her delicate throat in his hands and squeezing until her eyes bulged and her face drained of colour and life. He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself in check, but he only felt worse, infuriated by the way she had burrowed under his skin like some vial insect.

The priestess disappeared, having failed to see them. As soon as her light stopped dancing across the walls, Zolm moved away from Nasreen.

They didn't speak. He grabbed the body of the boy from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. _Let her follow me_, he thought as he angrily stormed down the stone corridor, _when all hell breaks loose, she can be the first to fall in its path._

Continuing down the path in silence, it began to get lighter. As they turned the final corner, Zolm had to stop and stare at the sight which greeted him. A twisted pillar of what looked like fire and stone dominated a chamber that was taller than any palace or city he'd ever been to. It was the sand glass.

"What in the name of the gods…" Nasreen breathed behind him.

"That _is_ the gods," he smirked, "Or at least, the closest thing to them."

She just stood there, the light from the pillar reflecting on her awestruck face. He was struck for the briefest of moments by the revelation that her face would have been pleasing, were her intolerable attitude not taken into account.

The pillar was connected to several of these passages by rocky outcrops that led all the way to the base. That was where the ritual would take place. Taking care where to step, he began to cross the walkway, careful not to look down. Below him, the cavern continued, deeper than the eye could comprehend. One wrong step was all that separated him from plummeting to certain death.

He set the body in front of the pillar, which roared as the fiery sand raged behind the glass. He got out the phial of Tamina's blood, the letter Nizam had written, and reached into his robes for the pouch of ashes. His heart missed a beat. The pouch wasn't where it should have been. He checked everywhere, every pocket and crease and fold of his robes, but it was gone.

He whirled around and saw that _she_ was standing a little way away, still mesmerised by the pillar.

"Give it back," he snarled. Why, at every stage, must she be a hindrance?

She looked at him and batted her long eyelashes, feigning innocence. He closed the gap between her in two long strides and reached out to grab her. Expertly, she moved out of his way, dancing dangerously close to the edge. She clambered up some rocks so as to get to higher ground. Dangling the little pouch over the abyss she smiled down at him.

"I don't have _time_ for this," he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls, "Give it back _now_!"

"All I want is your name."

He took three breaths, in and out, through clenched teeth. _The hell with it_.

"Zolm," he spat his name out like it was an offensive word, "My name is Zolm. Now give me the pouch or I swear…"

"No need for that," she chuckled, tossing the little pouch down to him. He caught it expertly and could feel the relief wash over him.

Composing himself, he read over the instructions once more, even though they were ingrained on his mind. Taking a deep breath in preparation, he threw the little glass bottle at the pillar of glass and sand. It smashed, sending the blood running through the cracks in the crystal like surface. Nasreen watched with avid curiosity from her perch.

After a moment of superstitious hesitation, he plunged his fingers into the pouch of Nizam's ashes and approached. He smeared the ashes and blood together on the surface, forming a repulsive paste. Then, with his finger, he traced the symbols from the parchment exactly into the mix. With a disgusted look, he wiped his fouled fingers on his robes and took a step back.

There was a moment of expectant silence which dragged on too long. He frowned. Something was supposed to have happened.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Nasreen asked sceptically.

Zolm checked the letter to be sure that he'd done everything.

"Maybe he was just an old fool," he sighed, dejected.

That was when the winds began. They came from nowhere, whipping up around the pillar like a ferocious desert sandstorm. The roar of it almost deafened him, and he fell to his knees, trying to brace himself.

Nasreen screamed. It was so uncharacteristic of her that he looked up, just in time to see a gust of the devilish wind knock her off balance. Time seemed to slow as she fell. He didn't even know that he'd moved until he was looking down at her, his hand locked to hers, with her body dangling perilously over the endless darkness.

"Don't let me go!" she yelled over the noise, as he saw fear in thoes eyes of hers for the first time.

With a surprise he realised he hadn't even thought of that. This was his moment; he could be rid of her once and for all. But even as the voices in his head urged him to let go, the muscles in his hand tightened, securing his hold. She didn't weigh much, but nevertheless, his shoulder began to ache from the sudden strain, and because his hand refused to cooperate, he had no choice but to hoist her up. She clung to him like a child to a parent, refusing to relinquish her grasp, even when her feet were back on solid ground.

The wind began to calm, and the cavern darkened, as blackness began to mix with the fire and sand._  
_That was when the voices began to speak.

**_The initial price is paid. Do you, wretched one, understand the terms?_**

It was both a thunderous roar of hundreds of voices, and the quiet whisper of one. Zolm's heart thundered inside his chest, as he realised this night would be burnt into his memory for the rest of his days, be they short or numerous.

"I do!" a feeble, yet recognisable voice replied. The silhouette of a person appeared at the glass.

**_Should you fail to meet our demands, or, if you are pierced by sacred blades, you shall return to the unimaginable punishments which you deserve. Do you consent?_**

"Yes!"

There was a noise of cracking, as the seemingly solid wall of the pillar became fluid, and the shadow stepped forward.

Nasreen, who had been watching this unfold before her eyes, released herself from the embrace she had forced upon Zolm, and sprinted back across the walkway. It was too much.

The Hassansin wrenched his gaze from the pillar to watch as she fled. He considered for a moment, that she would get lost in the tunnels, and eventually thirst and hunger would claim her, but what concern was that of his? Turning back, the shadow behind the glass began to form features, and to his utter amazement, he recognised the form. With a final push from unseen hands, the body was pushed through the molten glass. It tumbled to its hands and knees on the ground, unable to stand. Behind him, the pillar reformed, as though nothing had happened.

"Hassansin," it croaked, "Bring the boy."

Too dazed to argue, Zolm complied and dragged the body over beside the new addition. The wretched figure placed his hands on either side of the boy's head, and began to breathe in deeply.

What seemed like a golden thread of sand and light left through the boy's open mouth and into his. The transformation was miraculous, as the light was transferred from one to the other. When it was done, he tossed the now useless body over the side of the rock and into the abyss.

Amazed, Zolm began to laugh. It was one of relief, and of victory.

"What time of what day is it?"

"It's the early morning, Lord," Zolm replied, "Today is the day Dastan marries the Princess."

It gave a chuckle.

"Well, as _family_, I think I'm entitled to an invitation, don't you?"

* * *

Dastan paced his bedroom, unable to settle. He felt like a painted peacock with the hot uncomfortable layers of ceremonial robes. Despite himself, he was nervous. Something his father had said in the other time line sprang to mind, and he smiled a little as he remembered it.

"_He plunges into a hundred foes without thought, but before marriage he stands frozen with fear!"_

The two were incomparable, war was war. But marriage, that was a whole different kind of battle. He just hoped to god that he would make her happy, that was all he wanted.

With shaking hands, he lifted up a goblet of wine from the table and took a sip, hoping it would calm the nerves that were bubbling below his surface.

The door opened a bit, and Bis popped his curly haired head through.  
"Dastan!" he hissed.

The prince spun around, his eyes wide.  
"Is it time?" he spluttered.

"No, not yet, but your father's coming. He'll be here any moment!"

Dastan set down the goblet, and brushed himself down.

The door opened fully this time, as King Sharaman entered.

"My boy," he called holding out both hands towards him. Dastan went into his adopted father's embrace and kissed his cheek. Sharaman patted him on the back and laughed.

"How are you holding up?" the king chuckled, "Have you thought about running away yet?"

"A little," Dastan smiled. He wanted more than anything in the world to marry the princess, but to have his whole life set out before him like that was daunting, and made every man second guess his motives.

"Good!" Sharaman roared, "That means you're ready! She shall make a wonderful first wife, and a fine Queen of Alamut."

_First, and last_, Dastan thought, unable to imagine taking another after Tamina. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Now was not the time for defying ancient Persian traditions.

His father let out a sigh, and took Dastans face in his hands.  
"Just look at you," he beamed, "Look how you've grown. You're a fine young man Dastan, and no matter what people may say of your blood, your heart is as pure and full, and noble as any man _born_ into royalty. I'm so proud of you. I just wish your Uncle could have been here to see this, he would have been proud of you too."

Dastan faltered a little. Nizam would have been anything but proud, but it was supposed to be a joyous day, and Sharaman would not have a bad word said about his brother after his _tragic_ and _misunderstood_ death.

"Thank you, father," he said, "It means a great deal to know that I've pleased you."

Both men laughed and embraced again.

"Come then, let us take the first step down the path towards the rest of your life."

He didn't even remember how he got to the room where the wedding would take place. It was all just one big blur of fussing and talking. Bis was by his side as always, his two brothers, Tus, and Garsiv, his father of course, and a lot of other Persian dignitaries were present. There was also a large Alumutian gathering, priests and some of Tamina's family. Her mother and father had passed into the afterlife some years ago, but her cousins and other extended family and friends were there to see her wed.

Dastan stood at the front of the room, his mouth as dry as the desert beyond the city walls. He tried not to fidget, but found it impossible. Normally, he couldn't give a damn how he looked, but these weren't his regular clothes. He pulled a sleeve straight, then adjusted the fit of the robes. Running his hands through his hair was another nervous habit of his, and he did this several times in a row. Bis placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Relax."

The Persian prince managed to nod in response.

A hush fell over the room and with a violent thud of his heart, Dastan realised that Tamina must have entered. He swung around, and as he looked at her, he felt all the breath leave his body at once.

She was so beautiful it was almost physically painful to look at her. Her hair was adorned with golden beads and jewels that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Those deep brown eyes of hers were lined with black to accent their shape and they were even more dazzling than usual. Her hands and feet were painted with complex patterns of waves, swirls and flowers, as was her custom. As she walked towards him, she shifted her eyes up from the floor, to him, and smiled.

So many things could be said with a smile. He could see she was apprehensive, and he would even go as far to say a little scared, but it was mixed with excitement and expectation. She wouldn't have smiled at him, had she loathed him, as was his fear. Alone, she walked to meet him, with her gaggle of maids waiting behind her.

She glided to his side, and taking a quick glance at him, they both knelt on the embroidered cushions on the floor, in front of one of the high priests of Tamina's religion.

The priest began to speak, summoning the gods into their presence to preside over the ceremony.

That was when the noises started. They were quiet at first, enough so to be easily ignored as the tactless arguing of servants. But as it became gradually louder, people began to get restless at the intrusion on the ceremony. When the clash of swords sounded, the rumble of dissent in the room became a frenzy of talking. Dastan looked over his shoulder at his brothers. Garsiv's hand was at his sword, and Tus had a worried frown painted on his face, as he glanced nervously over his shoulder.

Tamina grabbed Dastans arm abruptly and began to speak in a rushed whisper.

"I don't have time to explain," she hissed under the growing din. Her brown eyes that had been filled with expectation only moments before were not drowning in fear, "But in a few moments you're going to get a very nasty shock. We need to leave, try to escape the moment that happens, do you understand?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked dumbfounded.

"You just have to trust me," she pleaded, and he could almost feel the anxiety and dread radiating off her like heat from a lamp. He frowned, but nodded quickly in affirmation.

At that moment, the doors at the far end of the room burst open. Dastan snapped his head around to look, and were it not for his already being on the floor, he was sure that he would have fallen over from the shock.

The name tumbled from his lips uncontrollably as the impossible situation unfolded in front of him.

"Nizam."


	8. Chapter 7: Escape

**Author's notes: **Another week, another chapter! Hope you all like this one as much as the others. D/T angst warning. And Nizam being a bit of an evil git warning too...

I get a lot of questions regarding plots in my reviews, sometimes saying that there are things they don't understand. It's my writing style to leave some plot points unanswered. This leaves multiple little cliff hangers, which is my way of keeping the reader interested. 99% of the time, all the questions/plots will be resolved. If by any chance you think I have overlooked resolving something, then by all means drop me a line. But most of the time, if you have a question, it will be answered in the next few chapters :)

Reviews: Thank you everyone again! I just love reading all your comments, and you were _very_ receptive to the last chapter, mostly because of the slightly large and dramatic cliff hanger. So thank you all again!

**WingedShadow** - I loved reading your review XD I knew from the start I'd bring Nizam back, because I just love to hate his character. Now, I just hope I can do him justice! And the Nasreen/Zolm story line is one of my favourites at the moment, so its good to know someone else is really enjoying reading about them! Thanks for your review xx  
**sorree** - Ah, I think you've picked up on one of the majoy themes of my story, what with the mirroring of the movie plot! Stay tuned for that one. And yes, we all love and hate cliffhangers!  
**Starfish** - Yup, adventure part starts here. They might meet up with some _old friends_, who knows... ;) I hope this chapter will answer some of your questions about the involvements regarding the 'gods' in the last chapter!  
**vera1992** - Those two are so fun to write about. Glad you're enjoy the Zolm/Nasreen plot line!  
**Mina** - Nizam is an easy character not to like, but it's great fun writing about him! I think this chapter may answer your question about Dastan/Tamina. If not, the short answer is no. Yes I know, I'm evil.

Thanks again everyone, and I hope this chapter will live up to your expectations!

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Escape**

"Run!" Tamina cried, grabbing Dastan's arm, and somehow managing to pull the stunned prince to his feet.

_Nizam was dead._ So how could he be here? It was like some terrible nightmare that he was waiting to wake up from. He couldn't think straight, he didn't have time. But he knew that the impossibility of Nizam was bad news for him, and he had promised to trust Tamina. There were guards, too many to count, flooding into the room. He could hear the clash of swords and see the flash of blades. There were cries of shock and outrage, and of course, terror.

She pulled him across to the white balcony, overlooking the city. He saw the flash of blue beneath him and with horror he recognised this scene as if from a forgotten dream. This was the second time he was going to jump into that fountain to escape the palace.

Tamina screamed as she jumped. It wasan't the typical high pitched scream of a woman, but rather a throaty cry as the fall wrenched the very air from her lungs. The cool water beneath them was a shock to the system, but it softened the landing. They both broke the surface of the water, and waded as quickly as possible to the edge.

"We need to get out of the city!" Tamina shouted

"How did you know that was going to happen?" Dastan demanded as he lifted her out of the fountain.

"Get us out of here alive and then I'll explain," she snapped.

The uneasy feeling of déjà vu began to bubble in him as they ran through the streets towards the stables. However, this time, no-one seemed to be in pursuit. He wasn't being framed for his father's death, and hot headed Garsiv wasn't thundering on his heels screaming murder. Nizam didn't even seem particularly bothered. He knew that his uncles sudden and somewhat unbelievable appearance would mean nothing but bad things, but he felt like a coward for fleeing unprovoked. Leaving Alamut, and all its secrets in Nizam's possession was wrong.

"Tamina," he panted as they hurried, "We can't leave!"

"We can and we are," she muttered.

"But no-one's chasing us, my family is back there and I want to be there to protect them!"

"You can't protect them if you're dead!" she snapped back.

They mounted up, both on horses this time instead of together. As the streets were not full of soldiers ordered to hunt them down, there was no great panic, but they still left with haste on thundering hooves. Dastan led the way. They headed in the same direction, to the little oasis where he'd first discovered the power of the dagger. His head throbbed with the confusion of it all, and he tried not to overthink things when it was a pointless to do so. _Tamina would explain_, he repeated over and over as the wind whipped his hair around his face. _Tamina would explain._

_

* * *

_

As Nizam strode into the room, he was filled with a sense of immense pleasure at each and every one of the shocked expressions on his face. The army behind him were those Persian soldiers who had been loyal to him before his demise, and were just as eager to return into service when they saw not even death hat the power to stop him.

The moment when he had looked into his nephew's eyes and seen shock, horror and disbelief, had been delicious. Only the two of them knew about what had happened _before_. Death had a way of making you remember things once forgotten.

But what he couldn't comprehend was why Dastan and the princess had fled over the balcony in the confusion following his entrance. It was curious, but of no importance. They had all the time in the world to track him down. This time, what he knew was no longer a threat; in fact, his escape could be used to his advantage. He changed tactics quickly from one of force, to finesse. He could do this with clever words instead of a sword edge. He signalled to the soldiers for crowd control, rather than bloodshed.

The Persian king was the first to speak properly, above the babble of the people in the room.  
"Brother? How can this be?"

"You demon!" Garsiv roared as he drew his sword with a wild look of determination on his face, "You were dead, I watched you die."

"Garsiv, no!" Sharaman cried anxiously, putting a hand on his shoulder to stay him. The middle prince wanted to lunge at his uncle, but battled through his urges on the command of his father.

"This is not possible," Tus breathed, audible in the hush which had fallen over the room, "You died. You died at _my_ hand when you tried to kill Dastan."

"But how can that be Tus," Nizam asked casually, "when I'm standing here before you now?"

Tus couldn't answer, and neither could anyone else in the room. Sharaman pushed forward, his face registering shock, and awe.

"I saw them burn your body in Nasaf," he said softly, walking slowly towards his brother, "How is it possible?"

"Deception, brother," Nizam answered, "You have been deceived by your own sons."

He paused for dramatic effect here as there were gasps, and mutterings of outrage from the audience.

"The body you saw burned was a decoy, made to look like me. The princes conspired against me, and in the heat of the attack on this city, I was captured and left in the desert to die. It is only by the grace of the gods that I survived. It has taken me all this time to travel back to tell you the truth."

"You liar!" Garsiv bellowed, "You filthy liar, you died trying to kill Dastan, and now you're a ghost come back to haunt us!"

"Hold your tongue Garsiv," Sharaman spat.

"The only liar here Garsiv is you," Nizam said, "Brother, look to your youngest son if you want the truth. But wait, you can't! He has fled, too burdened with the shame of what he has done!"

"Father, don't listen to him," Tus pleaded, but was met with the same response that his brother had received only moments before.

"But… why?" Sharaman breathed, "Why would they plot against you?"

Nizam shook his head, performing a look of disappointment and sorrow.  
"I do not know for sure. My only guess is that they were plotting with our enemies, and knew that I would have been too great an obstacle if I remained alive."

"This is ridiculous," Tus interjected, "How can you stand here and listen to this, father? Why would Dastan, Garsiv and I plot against you?"

"Ah, Tus," Nizam sighed, "You have been so eager for the crown for so long. How are we to understand the motives that drive you to such extreme measures for power?"

Sharaman was torn. On one side stood his sons, two of flesh and blood, and one of heart. In their version of the story, Nizam had tried to kill Dastan, and it was self-defence which had been his brother's ultimate demise. At the time, this had seemed an impossible explanation, but in his mind, he had it settled that it had been due to an illness of the brain, or a moment of madness after a battle. But now Nizam stood before him, a walking and breathing contradiction of his sons' tale. And he was right, it was no secret that Tus had long coveted the Persian crown.

"You are not real!" Garsiv shouted, "You are a ghost and a demon!"

"See for yourself, brother," Nizam sighed, offering out his arms to Sharaman, "Come and see that I am no ghost."

Sharaman approached his brother tentatively. First he touched the outstretched arms, they were solid. It was enough for him.

"Brother," he breathed with relief, as he embraced Nizam.

Triumph exploded inside him as he embraced the King. Now, the real upheaval could begin.

"Not a ghost _dear_ brother," Nizam whispered Sharaman's ear, "But I do believe _demon_ was quite an accurate description."

With a movement too quick to stop, Nizam grabbed his brother's face in his hands. Sharaman yelled out in pain as the process began. Much like before, a stream of golden light and sand passed between them, with Nizam on the receiving end.

"Father!" Garsiv screamed, lunging forward with his sword. A man dressed entirely in black seemed to materialise from nowhere, with a sword twice the size of a normal one. They sparred briefly, but Garsiv's sword was knocked from his hand. The Hassansin didn't continue, just held the middle Prince at point of his monstrous sword to stop any further attacks.

All the colour had drained from Tus' face as he stood trembling at the scene unfold before him.

When Nizam had finished he let Sharamans body drop into a crumpled heap on the floor. His crown fell from his head, and bounced along the tiled floor. The princes ran to their father's aid, no longer deemed a threat with their weapons cast aside. Tus picked up the body on the floor and pressed his head to the chest.

"He's alive!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"If you can call it that," Nizam replied with a sly grin.

"What do you mean?" Tus demanded. If a look could kill, Garsiv would have struck his uncle dead where he stood.

"He will breath, he will sleep, he will even eat if you force the food down his throat. But his soul is gone. You'll look into his eyes and see nothing. A fate, I think you'll find, that's even worse than death."

With a heartless wave of his hand, he signalled to his guards.

"Lock them up. I'll decide what I want to do with them later."

He bent down and picked up the crown. For a moment, he turned it over in his hands, feeling its weight. This was it, the accumulation of his lifes ambitions. No longer would he stand in the shadow of Sharaman, now he was King, the Lord of the land. With a victorious smile, he placed the crown on top of his hairless head. Turning in a slow and dramatic circle to every terrified face in the room, Nizam spoke once more.

"The Persian king is no longer fit to rule, and your beloved princess Tamina has fled. You all answer to me now."

* * *

Dastan looked thoughtfully into the flickering flames of the small fire he'd build to keep them warm through the night. They hadn't spoken more than a few words since they had left Alamut. He poked a stick into the fire as hunger gnawed at his insides. They had ridden hard, and hadn't eaten since before the wedding ceremony. They had water, but without food, they'd not last too long in the desert.

"Are you going to talk to me?" he asked eventually. Tamina's eyes were distant, as was her head. He called her name to bring her out of her daydreaming.  
"Tamina?"

Her head snapped up.  
"Sorry?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened back there now?"

When she didn't reply, he persisted.  
"How did you know that Nizam was about to come in?"

Again, she didn't reply, and he became increasingly frustrated. She shifted uneasily, then, reached behind her back, and under the top layer of her robes. Dastan furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to work out what she was doing. The thought of her undressing came briefly to mind, as it does often to members of the male sex, but it was so out of character for her that he immediately dismissed it.

In the fire light, something glinted, gold and silver in her hand. It took only a fraction of a moment for him to recognise it. Like a child's wooden puzzle, the pieces of understanding clicked into place in his mind.

"I was going to present it to you," she began quietly, turning the dagger over in her hands, "as part of the marriage ceremony, to symbolise that you were also now part of the sacred oath to keep it secret and safe. To everyone else, it would have just looked like a gift, but I knew you would have known the real meaning. I thought I was just being a sentimental fool."

She passed it to him, and as he took it from him, the sand in the handle shifted.

"You filled it?"

Tamina nodded.  
"After you left my room last night, I was reminded that you'd used it all… before. It's always good to keep some sand, in case of emergencies."

She closed her eyes tight in an expression of pain, as though a certain memory was particularly hurtful.

"What's wrong?" Dastan queried gently.

She took in a deep breath to control herself.

"The first time it happened, the first time Nizam came in, it was much more violent. There was blood, so much blood. I knew I couldn't escape with the dagger, especially when you were…"

She stopped again as another wave of emotion threatened to break her cool composure.  
"Especially, when you were…hurt."

"Badly?"  
His curiosity was somewhat morbid, but he wanted to know anyway.

"They caught you off guard. I don't know if it was a fatal wound but… there was a lot of blood. The only way I could be sure that they wouldn't find the dagger was if I reversed time and made sure that I… _we_ escaped."

"So it wasn't just for my sake that you used the sand."

It was a statement rather than a question.

Tamina shot him a serious look, with eyes that were cold, but not unfeeling.  
"I'm sorry Dastan," she whispered, "But the dagger will always come first."

He knew that, it was stupid to think otherwise. If she was prepared to condemn herself to death, then there was little help of her choosing someone else's life over the safety of the dagger. It was just something that he was going to have to accept. He puffed up his cheeks, and blew out a long sigh. Then, he gave the fire another prod with his stick.

"What I still don't understand is how Nizam is… _alive_! Tus killed him, I saw it with my own eyes. We were all there at his funeral, we watched his body go up in flames on the pyre. It… it just doesn't make any sense."`

Tamina lowered her eyes from him. Dastan caught the hidden meaning behind it.

"What do you know? What aren't you telling me?" he accused.

"No, no…" she corrected, holding her hands up in protested innocence, "I don't know anything… for certain, but I do have a theory."

The prince motioned for her to continue

"When I was training to be a guardian as a girl, I was told by one of my tutors that there are certain, _practices_, which, although forbidden, can be used to summon the power of the gods. Some are for good, healing, cleansing, that sort of thing. Others are…evil, wicked…"

"Like bringing back people from the dead."

"Perhaps, I don't know for sure. I thought they were just rumours, thought up to frighten me into doing my lessons, and leaning my prayers."

Dastan grunted in frustration.  
"So they resurrected one of the vilest _creatures_ Persia has ever seen? I'm sorry to say Tamina that I don't think much for your gods."

She snapped her head around and her eyes narrowed to slits. Ready to defend her deities with fierce determination.  
"Excuse me? If it wasn't for them, you'd be dead. Without the gods there would be no dagger, and no turning back time when you go running into the point of a sword like a fool."

"Without the gods, there would be no dagger, and none of this would have ever happened!" Dastan retorted.

"And without the dagger, we would have all perished in a great sandstorm, and none of our ancestors would have even been _born_." She was triumphant, sensing that she had won the argument, but Dastan wasn't finished with her yet.

"How can you _worship_ something that is capable of that?" he sneered.

Tamina stood up now, fury now visibly coursing through her body.

"Not all gods are good Dastan. All the evil things in this world have a master. But _all _the gods must be respected and feared! It is the way of the world. I wouldn't expect an ungodly, camel riding illiterate like you to understand."

"Oh, so that's how you see me?" Dastan exclaimed dramatically, "Well excuse me your highness, but you were fully prepared to _marry_ this _ungodly,_ _camel riding illiterate_ earlier today."

"Well that was before I had seen you for your true colours; a self-absorbed, bigoted, know it all, stubborn, foolish mule!"

"Characteristics that you would know best of all, Princess."

Tamina screeched with rage and kicked a mound of sand at him. Then, she turned on her heels and stormed off into the darkness.

"Where are you going?" he called after her in an irritated voice as he brushed sand off himself

"To find a stick," she yelled back.

"What for? We've plenty of fire wood to do the night!"

"So I can beat you with it!"

Dastan steamed for a few moments, considering the very real possibility of just packing up camp and leaving her there. He had forgotten how she could make him feel this way. It was almost like he'd returned to the first time he'd met her, how he had looked to the sky and pleaded for the strength not to kill her. Was he doomed to repeat events like this? She was still the spoilt, stubborn and infuriating Tamina she'd always been, despite what they'd been through today. With a frustrated sigh, he picked a burning branch from the fire to use as a torch and followed after her. On top of everything else, if she hurt herself in the dark, it would give her yet another thing to complain about.


	9. Chapter 8: The Problem With Evesdropping

**Author's notes: **Well, hello there! It's been a much longer wait than usual, and a shorter chapter. Apologies for this but that's life I guess. It's a new semester in University, and I haven't really settled in yet. Also been haunted a bit by writers block. Hope you can forgive me! Every story has a rough patch where the author has to really push, like walking up a hill. When I get to the top it will be fine, it's just getting there!

Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts and favourites I've been getting. This all really keeps me going, you guys have no idea!

**Starfish:** Yeah, you need to open your imagination a bit, but I did kind of warn that might happen in the story discription!  
**sorree:** I try to update when I can, but it might be slowing down a bit :( Can't be helped unless I get an injection of inspiration to get over this gritty patch!  
**Winged:** I love reading your reviews! It was such great fun to do the Dastan/Tamina fighting. They're two passionate characters, and they're bound to butt heads when they're together. And I am so glad you noticed the hard work I put into the manipulating side of Nizam. I was pleased with it, and even more so to know you appreciate it! And yeah, Tamina saved Dastan. Was it just for the dagger? ;)  
**Parlour trick:** I'm so glad you've caught up! As you see, I reply to reviews, but you were a few chapters behind, and replying would have been out of context, but now you're here I can talk to you! Thanks so much for all your reviews, they have been a joy to read! Yes, topsy turvey mirror movie plot is the order of the day, but I have a few twists thrown in! Also, I'm so glad you're being captivated by Zolm and Nasreen. They're probably my favourite characters right at the moment, and so fun to write. Glad to see you around, and look forward to seeing what you have to say about future chapters!  
**Mina: **No problem, I don't mind when I get reviews! Take all the time in the world, and thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

**

* * *

Chapter 8 – The problem with evesdropping**

When he eventually found her, Tamina was standing on the edge of the stream, looking out into the distance. With the light from the bright half-moon reflecting off her white robes and glinting from the jewellery woven into her hair, she looked ethereal. Dastan mused that she could have been mistaken for a ghost. Despite all of the rage that had been bubbling up inside of him, he couldn't disguise the fact that she was beautiful, and that he was undeniably in love with her.

For a while, he just stood and watched her as she wandered, lost in deep and troubled thoughts. The sight of her was calming, and his head began to clear from the red haze of rage. He cleared his throat to alert her of his presence. She jumped and whirled her head around. When she saw that it was him, and not a stranger, she returned to looking out across the barren desert.

"Go away, Dastan," she sighed, long and drawn out. Her voice was no longer filled with the heat and passion of her argument. Instead, it had been replaced by regret and sorrow.

"It's not safe for you to be out here by yourself Princess," he replied simply.

She opened her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut again, unable to find any reason to argue his statement. He stuck the burning torch in the sand and perched himself on a rock to wait until she was ready to return to the site where they had made camp for the night. In the silence, he too began to think things over once more. With a clearer head he could see why she had acted how she had. Tamina took her religion seriously, and he had offended her. If she had questioned the family ties between himself, his brothers and their father, he would probably have had equally harsh words for her.

_Apologise_ the voice in his head told him.

Suddenly, he was thirteen years old again, standing in front of his father during a council meeting. He, along with his two adopted brothers had been having a three way fight with sticks around the palace, which had spread into the forbidden areas, such as Sharman's bed chambers. In their game, Dastan had knocked over a great vase, a treasured gift from the emperor of China. As as much as it has scared him he had to say sorry then, and he was going to have to say sorry now.

For a while he sat, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tried to spit out the words, whilst battling with his pride.

"I'm sorry," he managed at last.

"So you should be," Tamina snapped back in response.

Within seconds, the anger was back and he wanted to leap down her throat with vicious words. However, he managed to hold them back as he continued in his planned apology.

"I was wrong to insult your… beliefs like that. Will you forgive me?"

She paused, and Dastan tried to read the emotions on her face in the dim light. Of course, it was impossible. After what seemed like an age, she turned her face to him and met his eye.  
"Only if you forgive me."

The eyebrows on his face raised in pleasant surprise, not expecting an omission like this on her part. Without giving him time to reply, she continued.

"I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I'm afraid. I'm afraid for my people, my city, myself and for _us_. I needed someone to be angry at and you were the only one there. I am sorry, I should have had more self-control."

Her voice was controlled and didn't waver, but as she spoke, a single tear escaped from her eye. Feeling compelled Dastan got to his feet and approached her. He wanted to take her pain away, but didn't know how. With an outstretched hand, he brushed the tear from her cheek. Instead of flinching away or closing the doors to her emotions, Tamina took his hand gently and guided him into an embrace.

"It's been a bad day for both of us," he murmured.

Tamina laughed cynically, pressing her face against his chest.  
"I think that may be an understatement, don't you?"

"I supposed you're right."

As they hugged he let his fingers entwine around the strands of her soft, dark, brown hair.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

Resting his chin on the top of her head he thought for a moment.  
"The obvious thing to do would be to run away forever…"

"Dastan, don't be ridiculous!" she blurted, pushing herself away suddenly so she could look him in the eye.

"Let me finished," he said. Tamina gave him a look, but kept her mouth shut.  
"The _obvious_ solution would be to run away, but that won't do. I'm not going to abandon my father and brothers and I _know_ that you aren't going to forsake Alamut and your people there."

"As long as we have the dagger…"

"No," Dastan interrupted quickly, "Having the dagger if anything puts us in even more danger. I know because we've done this before."

"Then what are we going to do this time?"

"We need a place to lie low, get our heads together, and where I can get my hand on some weapons and armour."

"We're in a desert Dastan, the nearest two cities are Alamut and Nasaf. We can't go back to Alamut, and we'd never make it to Nasaf without food!"

A knowing look passed over his face, and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile.  
"I know a perfect place. Have you ever heard of the Valley of the Slaves?"

"No-one goes near that wasteland, it's filled with murdering cutthroats!" she protested, looking at him with eyes that suggested he'd left his sanity back in the palace.

There it was again. She had said those exact words to him the last time they'd been on the run. A chill ran down his back as he thought about it, about the possibility that things were doomed to run the same course. He shook his head, as if trying to throw the notion out of his head by force.

"No, it's not. There may be a few shady characters there but they're mostly harmless. We've been there before too. And this time I'll know how to deal with them."

"Deal with them? I don't like this Dastan. I don't like the way you seem to know everything."

He smiled, and put a finger under her chin. She looked at him from under her eyelashes.  
"You're just going to have to trust me," he said softly.

He bent his face to hers, but Tamina turned away. The Prince straightened his back, a look of slight confusion and hurt registering on his face.  
"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't want you kissing me," she whispered, "I can't. Not tonight."

Knowing by his face that he still didn't understand, she continued.  
"This was… _tonight_ was… supposed to be... I just can't. Sorry. Just, take me back to the fire, I'm getting cold."

Without another word, he took her hand and interlocked their fingers. He still didn't fully comprehend why she had refused him. It was a woman thing, he decided. Their emotions were too complex for him to even begin to try and wrap his mind around. It was better just to accept and move on. At least they weren't fighting. For now.

* * *

The palace was a hive of activity. The take-over had been seamless, the only casualty being Sharaman himself. It wasn't surprising how fast the loyalties of some of the most influential people in the land had switched. Nizam was a force to be reckoned with, and when the wind changed, it was easier to change with it than struggle against it. Those who might have had a problem with the new rule had left Alamut silently and without trouble.

Zolm followed swiftly behind Nizam as they made their way through the palace. There was a part of him, niggling unnaturally at the back of his mind that everything had gone too smoothly. And why had the youngest prince and the Alamutian princess fled? There was something that wasn't quite right, but he couldn't justify his suspicions with any possibly explanations.

"Hassansin," Nizam began, "I never got a chance to thank you."

Zolm didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow in question.

"The letter you received. You must have considered the impossibility of what I was asking?"

"It was just a job," Zolm replied with a voice that was void of any emotion.

Nizam chuckled.  
"But you have an unfortunate lack of curiosity if you didn't wonder what it was all about."

"Perhaps."

"I want to show you what it was all for," Nizam continued, "I take it you've heard of the Dagger of Time?"

The Hassansin shifted his cold gaze ever so slightly.  
"Of course. If one of our brotherhood was not trained in his youth to be a priest of this city, I would think it no more than a child's tale."

"You are about to see the proof in front of your very own eyes."

As they entered the high temple, their presence disturbed a group of priests who were talking among themselves.

"Open the cage," Nizam demanded.

They exchanged anxious glances. One stepped nervously forward.  
"These are sacred chambers my lord," he began. The tremor in his voice was poorly disguised, "Only those who are ordained may open the holies of holies."

"Which is why I am asking _you_ to open it for _me_," Nizam sneered.

There was a clear moment of deliberation behind the priest's eyes as he weighed up his possible options. They had all been there to witness the unnatural way with which Sharaman had been dealt with. The conclusion he arrived at was clearly that his own life was more valuable to him than the customs of his religion. After giving a small glance to the other clerics, he pulled the leaver which set off the timing mechanism.

"A lot of fancy words," Nizam commented offhandedly as the ritualistic chanting began, "But I assure you that the little knife they worship so diligently is just as powerful as they say."

As the door to the dagger cage began to slide slowly open, both Nizam and Zolm had to shield their eyes from the reflected glare.

"No!" Nizam roared as the light dimmed. Zolm looked into the chamber, but saw nothing but a golden stand on which he supposed a dagger _should_ be resting. It was clear to see that the dagger was not there. The shock that registered on the faces of the priest was genuine. One even fell to his knees and began wailing, pleading to the gods for deliverance.

Nizam ran forward, his cloak billowing out behind him as he did so. He grasped the stand with both hands and stared into the space as if willing his eyes to see something that was not there.

"Dastan."  
His lips curled around the name of his Nephew in a sinister snarl.  
"Gather my generals!" he called out to the attendants who had followed behind him and Zolm, "The Prince Dastan must be found!"

He strode towards the door of the temple with passion behind every step.

Zolm began to speak, in the slow and serpentine way in which he was accustomed to. "Do you want my Brothers and I…"

"No," Nizam snapped, "Do your… _practices_ to find where he is hiding and tell me. But, I want you all to remain here."

"But my Lord, it will be easy for us to hunt your Nephew and this dagger," the Hassansin insisted.

"No!" he shouted again. Behind the anger, there was a tangible amount of fear in his voice, "You will not leave me unguarded in the palace. Despite the fact that I have risen from the dead, I am not immortal. I live off the life from others. If I do not feed in this way, I will die. I can also be struck by any blade known to man and live, _except_ those fashioned by the gods themselves. I don't know how much that little Princess knows about the dark side of her _religion_, but if that dagger pierces my skin…"

He paused, momentarily overwhelmed.

"Have you ever seen Hell?"

Zolm gave one slow shake of his head.

"I have. I've seen it, smelt it and I've felt every bit of it. The agony, the never ending pain and suffering that is beyond comprehension of the mortal mind was my every moment of existence. I am _not_ going back there, so help me!"

With that, he turned on his heel and left. Even the priests followed him, desperate to know what he was going to do to retrieve their precious relic. But Zolm stayed, trying to wrap his head around what Nizam had just said. He had seen the resurrection with his own eyes, watched as the life had been visibly transferred from two beings into Nizam. Yet, everything still felt like an impossible dream.

"Your life just gets more and more interesting doesn't it?"

Zolm spun around. He fought so hard to keep his composure, that it was impossible to speak.

"Gods, immortals, resurrections and renegade princes; sounds to me like a drunken man's camp fire tale."

"What are you doing here? _How_ are you even here?" he spat. The last time he'd saw her she'd been running blindly into the labryinth beneath the city.

"I have my ways," Nasreen shrugged.

"You… get out. Get out of the city. I should kill you right now, for everything you've just heard!"

Nasreen smiled, then with swaying hips, she walked towards him from the shadows where she had concealed herself.  
"But you can't, can you?" she purred, reaching out a hand to stroke his arm.

Zolm shot out his hand and grabbed her around the neck. He pulled her close to show her the fury behind his eyes.  
"You stupid girl, you don't know how dangerous it for you to know what you know."

"Then kill me," she challenged.

He was breathing hard as the blood roared behind his ears. Her youth had made her blind to the magnitude of her precarious situation.

Just then, a noise broke his concentration. A temple maid, who had been hiding, suddenly bolted from her place of concealment.

It took only a moment for Zolm to process this, and his following course of action. Too many knew now, and she had to be dealt with. He released Nasreen and rushed forward into the path of the maid's escape. She may have had a head start, but his reflexes were fast. He grabbed her from behind, and before she had even opened her mouth to scream, he had her head grappled in his hands. With one swift and powerful motion, he twisted her head around until her spine severed under the pressure. Instantly she fell limp in his arms, and he let her body drop onto the cold floor.

"See?" he shouted, pointing to the body, "This is what happens when you mess with things you don't understand. Now are you scared?" he hissed at Nasreen.

She wrinkled her nose a little at the dead girl, then with a sly grin, she raised both luminous eyes to look at him.  
"Of course not."

If it was his nature to yell out in rage, he would have. He stormed back towards her, trying once again to threaten her with his physical presence. He put two hands on her shoulders and pushed her, hard against the wall.  
"Then you're a fool," he whispered venomously.

"It's like a drug to you, isn't it," she commented with amusement, "The power, the fear, you get off on it don't you?"

He glared at her, irritated by her unnatural way to interpret his character.

"Speaking of getting off," she thrummed, "I never got to thank you for saving my life last night."

With a gentle movement, she brushed her hand against his thigh. Zolm jumped back like he'd been soaked with a bucked of ice cold water. She chuckled, enjoying the almost horrified reaction registering on his face.

With a few deep breaths, he regained his composure.  
"I want no gratitude for my _mistakes_. But, if you insist, I have a suggestion. Leave."  
Every muscle in his thin pale mouth emphasised the last word.

She pouted her dark lips.  
"Oh Zolm, you'd miss me if I did that."

The use of his name just added fuel to the fire already raging inside him. He approached her again, speaking right into her face.

"If you have any sense of self preservation, you'll get the hell out of Alamut before you're found."

"I didn't know you cared so much," Nasreen murmured.

"I'm done here. I didn't sign up for _child minding_. Get. Out."  
Turning on his heel, he thundered out of the temple in the direction Nizam had gone, bringing down curses on the day when he'd met the maddening little gypsy.


	10. Chapter 9: A Bargain Between Beggers

**Author's notes: **Sorry it's been so long. University is demanding, and I just seem to have less and less free time on my hands! But fear not, I won't abandon you! Apologies if this chapter is just a "filler" but not every chapter can be a knife edge thriller! Let's just hope my fan fiction factory get's a bit more productive soon!

Replies:  
**Vera1992** - Nope, Zolm's not much of a womanizer... but I know a certain little Gypsy that's going to do everything to change that, wouldn't you agree?  
**Mina** - No problem! I just hope this chapter was worth the wait!  
**sorree** - I'm glad you like the Zolm/Nasreen dark reflection of Dastan/Tamina. Nice job on picking up that! Also, I liked giving Nizam a reason to be afraid, give him a little more depth. I found it quite hard in the movie to believe he would be that twisted after having such a good life, so I'm enjoying looking into his character a bit deeper.  
**Starfish** - Hopefully you'll get the kiss you've been waiting for soon. Just need to wait for the opportune moment. Also, I think you might find another of your favourite characters returns here! ;) 

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Bargain Between Beggers**

As dawn broke, Dastan reached out his hand and gently shook Tamina awake. They had taken shifts throughout the night. It was too unsafe for both of them to be asleep in the middle of the wilderness. Besides, Dastan didn't believe himself capable of lying down beside her and being able to sleep. He _wanted_ her, but knew that she would never let him near her until the proper vows had been said. He had tried to think about anything else, to distract him from the impure thoughts that were trying to attract his attention. He began to count the stars and had tallied twenty three before he'd began to think about her lips, and her hair, and her perfect skin.

Dastan stifled a yawn as Tamina gradually began to wake. He was thoroughly wearied by the previous day and there was a dull ache behind his eyes that he attributed to the lack of sleep. The pains which addled his stomach were also probably due to the hunger.

She groaned as she broke the surface of consciousness.

"I've been thinking," he began.

Tamina opened one dark brown eye.  
"Well that's never a promising," she muttered, then closed it again as if returning to sleep.

Tipping the water canteen at an angle, he dripped some onto her face. She gave a gasp of surprise and sat bolt upright.

"Now that you're listening," he continued, fighting back the urge to laugh at the furious look on her face, "I've been thinking…"

She folded her arms crossly, but looked at him to continue.

"…we can't go into bandit country looking like this."  
He gestured to the wedding regalia that he was still wearing.  
"We'll be walking targets."

Tamina pursed her lips.  
"As much as it pains me to admit, but I think you're right."

By mid-morning they were making their way thought the valley. Their once gleaming white clothes had been dulled and dirtied by mud and the vigorous pounding and scraping of sharp stones.

It had been almost a full day since either of them had eaten anything. He had been hoping that they might have stumbled across a lost goat or even some fruit on the oasis trees. But there had been nothing. The sun was growing hotter by the moment and they would soon have to look for shelter to spend the hottest part of the day.

What had been a dull headache that morning, was now a crushing pain behind his eyes that had Dastan wondering whether or not Tamina had stabbed him in the head when he had been sleeping. But not wanting to be a burden, or admit that he was suffering at all, he hadn't mentioned anything. However, he hadn't taken into account a woman's intuition.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied, "It's just the heat, and the hunger."  
He turned his head to smile in reassurance, but the sudden movement of his head caused his vision to blur. Then, he was overwhelmed by darkness.

Tamina watched in horror as he slipped sideways off his horse, and landed with a thud onto the sand below.

"Dastan!"  
She reigned her horse to a stop and jumped down and ran to him. Rolling over his body she brushed the sand from his sweat stricken face. Reaching down she poured some water from the canteen onto his face in the hope of reviving him. But it was to no avail. He was still breathing, but shivering at the same time. In this heat, feeling cold was not a good omen. Her next thought was that she would put him on his horse, and lead it in the hope that they would soon find the bandit camp that he'd told her about. However, one useless attempt at lifting him ruled out that plan. She couldn't even drag him, let alone lift him onto a horse.

With the tendrils of fear and anxiety beginning to creep up into her throat, she fought back the feeling of choking and took a few deep breaths. Looking around, she saw nothing but sand and mountains. She wasn't even sure what direction they had been travelling in; every which way she looked was the same. Spotting a sand dune, she left Dastan and began to climb it, hoping to get a better view. When she reached the crest, her heart missed a beat. On the other side was a patrol of some sort. For a moment she wrestled with herself. This was outlaw territory, and these could be murders and thieves. But she didn't have another option, if she didn't get help soon Dastan would die. And without him, she didn't have a chance. Her only option would be to return the dagger to the mountain temple, and she doubted whether she would make the journey without food.

"Hey!" she called out as loud as her lungs would allow, waving her arms in the air, "Over here!"

They saw her, and changed direction. Tamina ran back down the sandy slope to where Dastan lay, hoping that they would be less inclined to threaten her when they saw her situation. Or perhaps, they would be more ready to attack when they saw she was unprotected. Closing her eyes, she sent a silent prayer to the gods, and put a reassuring hand on the dagger behind her back. It would be useless for defence, but she would rather die by her own hand than someone else's.

As they approached, Tamina tried to keep her composure cool, but bartering with outlaws in the desert had never been addressed in her lessons.

"It's a little early in the day for sleep," one man commented, as they pulled their horses into a circle around her. From the way the other's laughed, as if it was required of them, it was clear he was some sort of leader.

"He's ill," she began, "Can you help me?"

He laughed, showing a row of slowly rotting teeth.  
"I know your game you little sand wench. You intend to fool us into thinking your friend is ill, and then when we least expect it, you'll rob us blind and kill us."

He said all of this with exaggerated hand movements.

"Even if that were true, do you really expect the two of us to best the dozen of you?"

"Of course not," he sneered, "do you want to know why?"  
He got off his horse, and approached her.

"You see him?"

He pointed to one of his men, whose skin was as black as the night sky and wielded a strange looking knife which he twirled absently in his hand.  
"This is Seso. In the heart of Sudan, there is a tribe of warriors known as the Ngbaka. They strike fear into the hearts of all they cross. The Ngbaka are masters of the throwing knife, wielding blades said to be blessed by the creator himself."

At this he pointed to the sky.

"Their aim is so murderously accurate, they can decapitate three men, with one strike. Seso here is an Ngbaka and I had the good fortune of saving his life which means that he is now enduringly indebted to me. So, _girl,_ if you try any funny business, Seso will have no qualms about disposing of you, and your little friend, who by the looks of things, is half gone anyway."

Her natural response at this point would have been a scathing remark, but she swallowed her pride and considered that the best thing to get Dastan to some help would be to not aggravate them.

"I would be very grateful if you could tell me how to get to the outlaw camp in this valley."

"Exactly, _how,_ grateful?" he leered. Several men heckled at this point, making rude remarks. Tamina wrinkled her nose and backed away.

"These horses are the finest Persian breed," she said, changing the subject, "Help me and you can take whichever you think will fetch you the higher price."

He considered this for a moment.

"Both of them, and we have a deal."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she exclaimed before she had time to think about what she had said.

"You're not really in a position to bargain with me," he chuckled. "It's both the horses, or we leave you and your friend to the vultures. There's no way you'll find the camp on your own."

Tamina was reluctant to give up both of the horses. After all, how would they get back to Alamut when Dastan recovered? _If_, he recovered.

"Give us some money for food and a place to stay and you have a deal."  
Tamina offered out her hand to be shaken as a mark of the agreement.

For a moment he considered, then, with a reluctant sigh, he shook it.

* * *

Sharaman was only the first of many. Throughout those next few days in the palace prison, they saw them being brought in. Young and old, men and women, there seemed to be no sort of discretion with who Nizam chose as his victims. One thing was the same though, and that was the lifeless expression they wore on their faces, like someone who had lost their mind to old age.

Garsiv was like a caged animal. Unable to stay still, he paced up and down in the small space relentlessly.

Tus, on the other hand had resigned himself to sitting quietly in the corner, puzzling over everything while he ran his fingers over prayer beads. Occasionally he would break out of his trance to feed his father. It was like caring for an infant and it sickened him to see his father reduced to this.

At that moment, something inside of Garsiv snapped and he began shaking the bars of the cell and screaming. Tus, who had seen him do this several times in the last few days just sighed.

"You're wasting your strength and breath," he said, "It's not going to help."

"Well it's a damn sight more than you're doing!" the younger yelled in response.

"I'm praying!" Tus snapped.

Garsiv cackled sarcastically.  
"Praying? Our uncle has risen from the grave and used whatever ungodly powers he has at his disposal to rob our father of his mind and soul and you still think every problem can be solved with some pretty words to the gods?

"Precisely. There's nothing left for us Garsiv, all we can do now is pray for a miracle."

"What about Dastan?"

Tus smiled whimsically.  
"I hope Dastan and the Princess are as far away as possible from here. He knows that to return would be suicide for them both. I just hope that they can salvage some sort of life for themselves, and forget about all this in time."

"Brother, do you really think it's in Dastan's nature to run away and forget?"

"No, but I'm hoping that for once he's being sensible about this and stays away."

Garsiv laughed.  
"I give him a week before he attempts some half-baked rescue attempt."

The oldest of the Persian princes looked up regretfully.  
"That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

Zolm took another deep breath, letting the incense fill his lungs and his mind. The Hassansins had gathered themselves in a deserted courtyard of the palace to conduct one of their rituals.

"Focus your mind on the Prince and Princess," one whispered, who had been appointed to lead this particular gathering.

Two heads were better than one, and seven were even better than two. All the Hassansins gathered and used their skills together when they had been called to search for someone. Visions were an unpredictable matter, and if they were to find a certain person, it would usually take time of all seven of them meditating for one to find them.

The Hassansin leader closed his ice blue eyes and thought of Dastan and the Alamutian princess.

There was the usual haze of images, past, present and future. Occasionally, one of the Hassansins in training would go mad with the things that they saw. Death of loved ones, their own death, cheating lovers, betrayal; all these things were common in the visions. Good deeds were never the ones the spirits wished to show you.

Zolm had seen his own death before. He knew that it would be by sword and that he would be standing looking at his killer. But the identity of the person remained unknown. It didn't bother him, it could be days away, or decades. Everyone died eventually, it was the way things were, and would always be.

Suddenly, he heard a scream in his mind. It was a terrible sound of pain beyond comprehension, the sound of someone dying. Intrigued, Zolm focused in on the noise, trying to clear the figures which he saw. Another lung full of smoke and the face behind the scream began to clear. It was Nasreen.

With a start, Zolm was wrenched from his trance. He was breathing heavily, and his heart was racing. The wretched little gypsy was the bane of his existence, so why was the sight of her last moments so disturbing to him? She may be a nuisance, but she was more or less harmless. She didn't deserve the fate that had merited such a blood curdling cry.

There was no way that he would be able to clear his mind to continue the search for Dastan and Tamina after what he'd seen, so he got up to leave the circle. Just at that moment, Horus spoke, his voice distant and dreamy from the insence.

"I've got them. They're hiding in the desert, in a bandit camp, two day's ride east of here."

"Excellent," Zolm replied hastily, trying to forget what he'd seen, "Inform Nizam immediately. His army will depart in the morning."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move. Immediately he thought of _her_ and turned, but it was nothing more than the branch of a tree, swaying slowly in the night breeze.


	11. Chapter 10: Fever

**Authors Notes: **It's me again! Haven't died, just busy! Updating with another chapter and replying to some of your lovely reviews!

First off, i've had a ROCKET in the amount of favourites and alerts on this story so than you so much to everyone who's done that! It means so much to me that you're all following this story! I hope it lives up to your expectations. To all those people who left comments on any other chapter other than 9 - the last one - thank you! I'd love to reply to them all, but if by chance you've only read up until the chapter you've commented, a reply here is going to seem really out of context!

Replies for Chapter 9:

Mina: Yes, Nasreen has a funny way of getting under Zolm's skin doesn't she? And I'm glad you appreciate Tamina's views. She's a girl after my own heart, but this chapter might show a bit more light on where her head is at. You'll know what I mean after you read this ;)  
Emilie: Thank you! Nice to see another commenter! Hope you stick around xx  
Sorree: Plot bunnies, I love that XD I can just imagine little fluffy rabbits hopping around in my head. Nice to see that I've deepened Nizam's character a little for you, he was rather flat in the movie!  
Starfish: Horse-sick... perhaps. This chapter will reveal all!  
Edwards girl: I update when I can! Thanks for your comment, I really appreciate it and hope to see you around in chapters to come!  
Artemis: I'm not going to let it die! I just can't update as often as I'd like to! :( But I really appreciate you saying that i've kept them all in character! I work hard on it, and it's glad to know that it's worth it! And yes, Nasreen is interesting. She's great fun to write! Nice to see another new commenter, and I hope you stick around too!

On with the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Fever**

Zolm was up early, watching from the high temple as the company of soldiers left the city, heading for the valley of the slaves. A cloud of dust erupted from the horses hooves and drifted lazily across the morning sky.

They were after the Prince and Princess, and the dagger of time which they had stolen.

Behind him, someone entered the room, but they made no attempt at concealing their footsteps. If they meant him harm, they would have tried a more stealthy approach.

The new arrival began to speak, the voice instantaneously recognisable.

"There's nothing so glorious as to see an army ride out in the morning sun," Nizam sighed wistfully.

"My Lord," Zolm replied as he dipped his head in greeting.

"Just think, in three days they'll return with the dagger, and I will have my final victory. Once it's in my possession, you and your men may return home, I'll have no further need for your protection."

"You are already invincible, what does time matter to you?"

"You are mistaken, Zolm, if you think that I cannot be killed. I may have bargained with the gods of death and darkness, but I am not untouchable. Holy blades, such as _that_ dagger can still pierce me. Also, if I do not feed on souls, I will slowly wither away, and the gods will take me back into hell."

Zolm looked back out across the desert at the soldiers, as they gradually began to shrink against the horizon.

"You think me mad?" Nizam chuckled, "Maybe I am. My story is one that an older brother will tell to scare the younger siblings, but you've seen the things with your own eyes."

Zolm didn't reply. If he stopped to think, _really_ think, about the events of the last few days he probably would think of Nizam as crazy, maybe even go mad himself in the process. But there were things in this world not meant to be understood, and he was happy to leave them that way. When you dabbled in the realm of the unexplained, it was best not to dwell on it.

"You have been loyal to me Zolm," he continued, "But I know that your loyalties lie only with the highest price. My powers will only bring me greater and more powerful enemies. If you ever find yourself in a position where it is beneficial for you to use what you know against me, take this advice. Decline the offer, or I so swear that I will make sure that, alive or dead, you will suffer horrors beyond your comprehension."

"Of course, my Lord," the Hassansin replied courteously.

As Nizam left the room, Zolm allowed himself a small smile. If there were 'horrors beyond his comprehension' in his future at all, he would have seen them before now.

He considered the Persians warning for a moment longer, before deciding to leave the temple. Gradually, he became aware that he was being watched. He scanned his cold eyes around, looking for any tell-tale signs of an eavesdropper. There were none, and there were only two types of people who were that adept at hiding themselves. Hassansins, and irritating little gypsies.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked the seemingly empty room.

There was no immediate reply. However, a few moments later, she slipped out of the shadows and smiled at him.

"My, what friendly company you keep," she chuckled.

"And you're losing your touch if I know when you're watching me," he smirked.

"Oh, you know nothing of my _touch_… but I could easily arrange it," she purred as she approached, swaying her hips in a way that would have driven a lesser man insane with lust. But of course, Zolm was not an ordinary man, and the wiles of the female sex had never plagued his mind.

If he had to admit to himself that, however slight, she did stir _some_ kind of feeling deep inside of him, he wouldn't act on it. Besides, it was a fleeting notion, barely even there at all.

"Why are you still in this city, let alone the palace," he asked, somewhat exasperatedly, "You've just overheard what you're messing with. A smarter person would leave."

"But where's the thrill in being smart?"

"If you long for death, then you might as well tell me. I would be more than happy to oblige. I promise it will be quick and… _relatively_ painless. I can't guarantee that if you're found by anyone else."

"I'll take my chances."

Her stupidity sparked the anger again inside of him.  
"Listen," he hissed, "This is my final warning Nasreen. If you insist on staying here, then the next time I am unfortunate enough to cross your path, I'll either kill you myself, or hand you over to Nizam."

"Now that's just being mean," she pouted, "And I think you're overestimate your ability to catch me."

She made a lightning fast movement to prove her point which he instinctively blocked and countered. Nasreen dodged under his arm, but he caught her and twisted her other arm. Without noticing, she had managed to produce a dagger from somewhere which she held against his throat. However, the way he had her grappled, his sleeve was next to her neck and slowly but surely, the snake emerged and began to eye up the prefect spot for a strike.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, unwilling to admit that the other may have an advantage.

"Draw?" she offered.

"You first," he taunted, unmoving. He didn't trust her at all, and there was no way he was going to release first.

"If you insist."  
With her leg, she gave a well-aimed kick to his knee, knocking him off balance, so they both went tumbling to the ground. He hit the ground first, absorbing most of the impact, with her landing a moment later on top of him, still with the knife pressed lightly against his throat. In the tumble, his snake had been thrown from his sleeve and now slithered off in the opposite direction to sulk.

"Now isn't this embarrassing," she giggled.

"Get. Off." He growled.

"And just to rub salt in the wound…"

Before he could do anything, her lips were on his. It took one horrified instant for him to realise what she had done, and then she was gone. As she sprang from the floor, he reached out to grab her foot but she just danced out of his grasp.

"Until we meet again," she laughed, before disappearing out of the chamber.

He brought his fist down angrily onto the ground. Getting to his feet, he wiped his mouth roughly on his sleeve, then, spat onto the ground in disgust.

He took a few deep breaths to try and control himself. He wanted to ring her scrawny little neck as punishment for doing suck a vile thing. He _needed_ to take his anger out on _something_. Catching sight of the traitorous snake, he picked it up. It hissed violently in protest of being manhandled. With a satisfying smirk, he flung it out the window and watched its writing body fall through the air. There were a million more were it came from, and it made him feel a little better. But only a little.

* * *

When Dastan finally awoke, he felt as though his body had been severely beaten, all over, and with hard wooden clubs. His head felt heavy, like his brain had been removed and replaced with sand and stones and he struggled to keep his eyes open.  
Looking around, he saw that he was in a small dark room. The uncomfortable straw mattress beneath his tired body was the only piece of furniture, and the only light came from a candle which had nearly burnt out.

Trying to clear the fog from his memory, he attempted to recall how he had gotten here, but could manage nothing. Using all the energy he could muster, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Tamina was curled up on the floor beside the mattress using her arm as a pillow. He was relieved to see her. Perhaps she could clear up what had happened.

With great effort, Dastan rolled onto his side so as to reach her. Gently, he tapped her shoulder. In one quick movement, she sprang up and grabbed a small dagger form the floor beside her. Almost as soon as she had picked it up, she dropped it again and her mouth fell open in surprise.

"You're awake!" she gasped, flinging her arms around his neck. This sudden movement sent a stabbing pain shooting through his head but he ignored it. Then, she let go and punched him on the arm.

"Don't ever do that to me again, alright?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Dastan rubbed the place where she'd hit him.  
"Do what? Tamina, I have no idea what you're talking about. The last thing I remember is leaving the Oasis with you."

She sighed, and paused for a few moments to compose herself.  
"You got sick," she began, "You fainted, fell off your horse right in the middle of no-where. An outlaw patrol passed and I made them a bargain, because there was no way I could have gotten you to the desert camp by myself."

"What did you bargain?" he asked cautiously.

Tamina winced before she spoke.  
"The horses."

Had he not been too tired, he would have been angry. But what was done was done. He nodded his head in understanding. Besides, he could just steal them back if he needed to.

"You had a fever. The innkeeper told me when we arrived it was probably a bad humour in your food or water. All I could do was wait until the fever broke, or it killed you."

There was a silence between them, as Dastan processed the severity of the situation. But he was awake now, and so discerned that he had been granted life over death.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that on your own," he mumbled apologetically.

"It's not like you _wanted _to poison yourself with bad river water. Besides, I can look after myself."

He chuckled a little, because he didn't doubt that she could for a second. For being a pampered princess, she had proved, in this time and the last, she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"How long was I out?"

She paused for a moment as she tried to recall.  
"Nearly three days. Go back to sleep," she urged, "It's the middle of the night. Tomorrow, if you're feeling a bit stronger, the Sheik wants to meet you."

"Don't tell me," Dastan smiled, "He's a slightly dishonourable entrepreneur that goes by the name of Sheik Amar?"

"You know him?" she asked in surprise.

"We've met before…"

Tamina understood.

Before settling back down to sleep, he watched as she stretched out her back wincing in pain.

"You shouldn't sleep on the floor," he mumbled, "There's enough room for you on the mattress."

"Dastan," she said sternly, looking him dead in the eye, "I am not sharing your bed until we are married. I thought I made it quite clear to you…"

He laughed, and she frowned in response.  
"Do I look in any condition to take advantage of you, even if I was like that?" he asked.

She shook her head defiantly.  
"It's the principle of the thing. Now, go to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

Not having the strength to argue with her, Dastan lay back down and closed his heavy eyes. Within moments, he was asleep again.

In the last flickering moments of the candle, Tamina watched him. Only a few hours ago he had been perspiring, and convulsing as he fought the fever. For three days and nights she had stayed by his side, washing his face to try and cool him, holding his hand as he moaned and babbled incoherently.

It had given her plenty of time to think, about life, about death, and about _them_. There was an ancient saying in Alamut, and perhaps other places as well, that you could never miss the water, until the well ran dry.

The same was true about Dastan. Three days ago, if asked, she would have said that she and the Prince were acquaintances, friends at a push, with the possibility of something more than infatuation blossoming between them over time. But after three days of having to come to terms with the fact that he might not ever wake up, her eyes had been opened to the fact that she was in love with him.

She attributed some of her affection to feelings that were locked away in a forgotten place in her mind, but all the same, she loved him.

In those three days, she had been horrified to discover the very real possibility of never being able to tell him that. There were also some other things that, if death had taken him, she would lament never having been able to share with him. It was all very easy to _say_ that she wouldn't share his bed, but having nearly lost him raised some difficult and soul searching questions. What _was_ marriage exactly? Was it some pretty words and vows made in front of a priest, or was it something different? She had been brought up to believe that the pomp and ceremony of a wedding and the saying of vows was the most important and sacred things you could do. Now, well, she wasn't sure.

Lying back down, she closed her eyes and pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind in favour of sleep. For the first time in three nights, she slept peacefully.


	12. Chapter 11: The Truth Will Out

**Authors notes:** Greetings once again, I come bearing a new chapter!

Once again, I cannot thank everyone enough who has reviewed, added this to their alerts or favourites because every little thing you do to support this story means so much to me and keeps me going even when times are tough! Extra long chapter because I started something that needed finished and finished as well as I could, you'll see what I'm talking about hopefully later in the chapter! There's also a bit of a cliffhanger in the middle, so for those of you who have a love/hate relationship with them, have your stones ready to pealt me with!

Some review replies:

**Emilie** - Thanks! I update as often as I can, but not as often as I'd like because I lead quite a busy life outside the fanfic world! Hope the chapter was worth the wait! xx  
**Sorree** - No, indeed our poor Zolm doesn't know what he's in for! *evil giggle*  
**Edwards-gir**l - She does! But when is she going to tell him? *insert dramatic noise here*  
**Starfish** - Maybe not as long as you think. Hopefully this will be another good chapter for you if you catch my meaning... ;)  
**Vera** - Wow! I don't often leave people speechless, but thanks for your reviews! Make me smile every time xx  
**Jellybean** - Thank you so much, your comment was such a pleasure to read. I'll always keep writing, it just might be slow sometimes. xx  
**Stig **- Gosh, that was such an epic review. So much I'd like to reply to but I fear I'd be here all night if I tried to, but just to let you know, thank you for writing such a long review. I find it really flattering that someone would spend so long writing a review for my little story. Yes, I make quite a few mistakes, but even when I go through the text with a fine tooth comb, I still miss some! I like to respond to the reviews as both an insentive to review in the first place, and a way of letting them know what I feel about what they've said, and to let them know how much I appreciate their thoughts and opinions. I'd welcome critisim so that I could improve, but so far either no-one's been brave or you're just all very complimentary people! As for the insense/hashish I had researched it a bit before I started writing, but I decided not to give it an actual name so I didn't have to stick to any rules that I could be later called out on (e.g. If I'd said that drug X gave Zolm this reaction, I may have gotten it wrong and some learnered indivitual may have reviewed saying "Don't be stupid, drug X doesnt give that effect!") and although I hadn't thought of it at the time, giving it a name would have probably required me to upgrade the rating, so I'm glad I didn't! Thanks again for your review, and I hope to hear your thoughts on future chapters!  
**Hawthorn** - Well I've always been known for having affections for 'unconventional' characters. And if I like a character, you can be sure someone in the story will too! Hopefully there'll be enough Dastan/Tamina in there to distract you from Zolm. Thanks for the review xx

Phew! Lots to reply to. On with the story now!

**Woffles92**

* * *

**Chapter 11 – The Truth Will Out**

Quietly lurking, Zolm was listening in on a conversation between Nizam and his advisors. Usually his employers disclosed all the necessary information to him, however, he had never taken a client at face value. He always liked to know their hidden intentions, if there were any. As an added bonus, these little ventures allowed him to test and refine the most basic of Hassansin skills, such as the art of eavesdropping.

"And what of the people?" Nizam asked.

"They fear for the future my lord," the captain of the guards replied, "A few families have already left the city. Others with thriving businesses are more reluctant, but will certainly leave if you don't instil some kind of civil order. The city has been ruled by the Princess' family for numerous generations; it's natural that there should be a little unrest in such a time as this."

"If things remain as they are, how many do you suppose will leave in the next, say, month?"

"Perhaps a fifth, maybe more, but even an exodus of that nature will affect the trade and may cause others to follow. The foundation of any great city is built on the people. Once the cornerstone is weakened, it is only a matter of time before the structure falls."

There was silence for a moment and Zom could almost hear the thrum of Nizam's mind as he thought this potential problem through.

"So they need an incentive to stay."  
It was a statement, rather than a question.

"That would be one option, my lord."

"Station guards at every gate to the city," he announced, "The people are free to leave if they wish, but they must first offer me a gift."

The captain cleared his throat anxiously.  
"A gift?"

"A _sacrifice_. Any family wishing to leave the city unharmed must offer one of their number to me."

A stunned silence reverberated around the chambers. Zolm allowed himself to raise his eyebrows, registering mild surprise at this decree. He had known Nizam to be ruthless, but had never quiet imagined him to be capable of something such as this.

"Are you sure that's wise my lord? You're meant to be gaining their respect, and I think you may want to reconsider…"

"The empire of Kosh is one of the most feared in these parts, and even those in the furthest reaches of China know of his power. He earns the respect of his people with policies that are much more corrupt and cruel."

Someone much closer to Zolm's hiding spot and out of earshot of Nizam, whispered to another, "That's because Kosh is a madman, and all his _people_, are cutthroats and whores."

"Not to throw a scorpion into the nest," interrupted a new and slightly scathing voice, "But what do you plan to do on a market day when hundreds of people from the outlying farms and villages enter the city? Do you expect them to offer up a family member for sacrifice every time they wish to leave?"

"That is why I employ advisors," Nizam snapped irritably, "You can develop some system for tracking those who are merely visitors, and those who are actually resident. Spread the news of this new law, I don't want ignorance to be an excuse."

"As you wish."

Then he dismissed his council. Zolm took this opportunity to slip away also. Nizam's measure became ever more disturbing and he wished for the swift approach of the day when he was released from his service so as to get as far away from this madness as possible.

* * *

The sun was streaming through the tattered and torn drapes when Dastan awoke. Although he felt considerably better than when he'd woken during the night, he could still feel the effects of the war his body had waged on itself. Heavy and stiff were the words he'd used to describe how his limbs felt.

"Good morning," Tamina said quietly, for fear that his head still hurt.

"Morning," he replied, still slight bewildered by sleep. Apart from the way his body ached, it felt as though his illness had been nothing more than a bad dream.

She sat down on the edge of the mattress and began to plait her hair into a long braid at the nape of her neck. Dastan watched in fascination at the ease with which she manipulated her hair even when she couldn't see what she was doing. When she had finished, she turned and smiled.  
"How are you feeling?"

He considered his answer for a moment.  
"Hungry," he decided.

She laughed.  
"I don't care what the physicians say, the truest sign that a man is no longer suffering from illness is when his appetite has returned!"

Dastan chuckled, trying not to wince when the motion made his chest ache.

"Come," she offered out her hands to help him from his bed, "We'll go see what we can find to eat."

As he tried to stand, he realised just how weak his muscles has become. It took a few moments, but after some struggling he managed to get to his feet. For someone that relied so much on his strength and physical abilities this sudden lack of control of his own body scared him a little, but nevertheless he tried not to show it for Tamina's sake.

"Tamina?"

"Mm?"

Dastan cleared his throat, and more for balance than anything else, rested his hands on Tamina's waist.  
"I want to thank you for staying with me. It means a lot to me that it was you by my side, even if I didn't know it at the time."

She tried to give him a disapproving look for the way he was holding her, but found that she couldn't manage one.  
"I was merely doing what I knew was right," she replied noncommittally.

He let out a frustrated sigh.  
"No, don't say that. Don't tell me you did it because you felt you _had_ to. Tell me you wanted to do it, out of… something more than duty."

"No Dastan, I won't tell you that I _wanted_ to do it," she snapped, "Because of course I didn't _want_ to look after you. I didn't _want_ you to be sick in the first place. I didn't _want_ to be pacing this room for three days wondering when, or even _if_ you were going to wake up. I didn't _want…_"

"Alright!" the Persian prince interrupted, grabbing Tamina by the shoulders to make her stop talking, "I'm sorry I asked. And I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, but it was beyond my control."

Unexpectedly, a smile graced her face.  
"And I'd do it again if I had to," she said softly.

He paused for a moment, studying her with a curious expression.

Alarm bells began pealing in Tamina's head and she realised that this was it, the _moment_ that everyone talked about. Right now was the perfect moment to tell him how she felt. And it was right then that she found her throat closed over and the words refused to leave her lips and she found herself unable to look at his face. She took in a deep breath to try and calm herself.

She wanted the words to be right, she wanted this to be a shared moment that they'd remember for the rest of their lives.

"Dastan… I…"

From the street outside their window, someone screamed. Dastan turned instinctively and moved towards it, forgetting his diminished strength and nearly stumbled. Tamina rushed to help him.

The window was small, and looked directly onto another house, blocking them from seeing what the commotion was. Several people were screaming now, yells and shouts, and the low unmistakable thrum of hundreds of horses hooves.

"What's happening?"

"I can't see!" he replied, frustrated.  
Dastan looked for a way to get to a better vantage point. He climbed into the window frame and tried to pull himself up onto the roof above, using some of the support beams. A few days ago he could have flung himself up with ease, but now every muscle in his arms seemed to scream and it was agony even trying to support his own weight. Seeing his strain, Tamina grabbed his foot and pushed with all her might to help him ascend. After a longwinded struggle he finally rolled onto the roof.

"Do you think you can help me?" she asked from below him.

No, would have been his honest answer, but he wasn't ready to admit his shortcomings just yet. Reaching over the edge to take her hand, he subjected himself to another round of agony as he helped her clamber onto the roof. Breathing heavy, he stood up and looked towards the noise.

Clouds of dust rose in the streets as a company of horses clattered through, knocking down stalls and even people in their wake. As their plight became gradually more apparent, the noise of the people became greater. With a sickening realisation, Dastan saw the colour and markings of their armour.

"Those are Nizam's men," he panted breathlessly, "They've found us."

* * *

The smallest of noises and Zolm's eyes snapped open. Someone was in his bedchambers. To be exact, the room didn't belong to him, but even Hassansins needed rest, and with most of the royal family either in jail or having fled, these grand rooms were going to waste. Moving slowly, so as not to give himself away to the intruder, he reached for the sword which he kept beneath the pillow for just such an occasion. But to his horror, it wasn't there.

"Looking for this?"

He opened his eyes and sat up quickly. In the dark room his sensitive eyes could make out Nasreen, standing holding his sword. With a grin she tossed it into the corner of the room where it landed on a rug with a dull thud.

"There's no need for this to get violent," she giggled, "Unless of course you're into that sort of thing."

He closed his eyes for a moment, praying that this was some sort of nightmare. When he opened them, he could see that she had begun to climb onto the bed, and onto him. Disgusted he pushed her away.

"Get off," he snarled, but she came at him again, using all her wiles to try to seduce him. It was so crazy, that had he not known better, he would have sword this was some kind of twisted dream.  
"You're just a child!" he protested in disgust.

She ignored his comment and pressed her body into his; making adjustments to prove that she was more of a woman that he gave her credit. It would have been a lie to say that he wasn't tempted by her. She was a beauty and it had been far too long since he'd lain with a woman. Hassansins were discouraged from making attachments as such, because they had a nasty problem of becoming a distraction, and he was especially wary of making any kind of _attachment_ with this _particular_ female.

With a grunt of frustration he shoved her roughly onto the ground. She made slight cry as all the wind was knocked from her body.

"I'm seventeen years old!" she protested breathlessly from the floor. He rounded on her.

"Exactly!" his eyes flashed menacingly. She was a grand total of eleven years his junior.

"If I still had a family I would have been married off _years_ ago, probably to someone twice as old as you!"

"A husband and subsequent offspring do not qualify you as an adult," he muttered.

"Oh, and I suppose spending most of my life _scraping_ and _scrounging_ around in the gutter, fighting for a living, doesn't _qualify_ me either?" Nasreen spat angrily.

"Why are you here?" he barked. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed so as to get up and make her leave no matter her answer. But she was as persistent as a fly around a sweating horse. She clambered onto the bed behind him and began to whisper seductively in his ear.

"I know what you are," she breathed.

He snapped his head around so that their faces were almost touching.

"_Enlighten me_," he hissed threateningly.

"You're an Hassansin."

Damn the gods, how did she know?

"Don't be stupid," he chastised, "Hassansins are just a story to scare little children like yourself."

She scoffed, "You're an even worse liar than I thought."

He looked at her with seething contempt but didn't respond.

Without warning, she made another desperate move to possess his mouth with her own. He thrust her away and stood up from the bed. She glared up at him, having been refused yet again. Then, her expression changed to one of pleading.  
"Please," she begged, "I want to be like you."

"What?" he growled in angry astonishment.

"Teach me to be an Hassansin like you."

He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. If she hadn't stolen his weapon, he would have run her through by now. At least he could humour her as a distraction while he tried to reclaim it.  
"So that's what this is? You're offering me your body in the hopes that I'll train you to be some sort of mythical killer?"

She smiled a little, fixing him with her yellow eyes from under a mass of dark eyelashes.  
"Is it working?"

Fighting off a fresh wave of revulsion, he eyed the sword at the other side of the room, and decided if he continued the conversation, he could probably reach it before he realised what his real intentions were.

"Even if such a thing existed, it's too late; you would have had to be trained from childhood."

She snorted a laugh, which earned her another steely glare.  
"Only moments ago you called me a child. Does that mean I can be trained then?"  
The look on her face was triumphant.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to go at her with just his bare fists. Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed himself. He could not be allowed to be riled by this, _girl_. But, her claims were not without merit. He permitted himself to ponder the idea, if just for a moment. He was only thinking about it, but the words escaped his thin lips before he could catch them.

"There's never been a woman before…"

"So you are an Hassansin!" her excited cry rang out.

He whirled around and grabbed the edge of the bed to stop himself from launching at her.

"Keep. Your. Voice. Down!" he spat while the blue of his eyes seemed to crackle with fury. Although Nizam and the Hassansins had the run of the city, it was still a dangerous word to be spreading around. Their notorious reputation could create a large amount of unwanted tension. With a grunt of frustration he turned away again. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, resenting with every one the way she made his blood boil and bubble so much that it felt as though his very skin would ignite at any moment.

He was vaguely aware of her leaving the bed, and could sense her approach.  
"You know I'm capable enough," she whispered, "I would be an _excellent_ student."

She placed her hands on the skin of his waist, embracing him from behind. His control broke and Zolm whirled around, grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. All thoughts of a weapon had vanished. He wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands.

"Stop treating this like one of your little games!" he growled. Although his voice was kept low for fear of being overheard, it was said with so much force and venom that he might as well have screamed it at her.

"You're hurting me," she winced, trying to wriggle from his grasp.

"Good!" he spat. The ice blue eyes in his head bulged, "Because that's what it is! Pain! The training will make your body feel like you've died and been dragged through the fires of hell. And that was when I was a child. You're much older; your limbs aren't as easily moulded so the pain will be worsened tenfold. On top of that, at night, the faces of all those you've killed will haunt you and if you don't go mad from the terror of it, the nightmares usually stop within a few years."

"Let go of me!" she cried, her movements turning into frantic struggles.

At that moment, he saw the look of fear flash in her amber eyes and triumph surged through his veins, fuelling his ever increasing anger.

"Let go?" he chuckled menacingly, "A moment ago you couldn't wait for me to touch you! What's with the sudden change of heart then?"

He was grinning now, in a way that made him look completely mad.

With a yell of pain, Nasreen wrenched an arm free and with all the force she could command, she connected it against the good side of his face. A sickening smack echoed around the room as Zolm reeled back, releasing her.

Although she was now free to run, she held her ground, fixing him with a look of both dread and defiance.

As the numbness and pain from the blow spread across his face, so too did the horrifying realisation that, after the initial triumph, seeing the fear in Nasreen's eyes brought him no sense of satisfaction. Ever since he'd met her, he'd been infuriated by her refusal to be submissive towards him and had yearned to see the terror in her eyes that he saw in others. But now that it was there, instead of feeling gratification, there was nothing. The angry fire had been doused, and he felt cold and empty.

"You're crazy," she spat.

He moved backwards across the room and sat down heavily on the bed. He smiled at the thought. Crazy. Was that what he was? Was the fact that he smiled at the description only further proof it was accurate?  
"Perhaps," he replied, looking at her, "Now are you so sure you want to be like me?"

The dread on her face melted away, and she began to smile again.  
"Defiantly."

It was crazy. _They_ were crazy. But one thing was blindingly obvious; her talents at manipulation and stealth were wasted on picking pockets.

"Alright then," he conceded in a moment of madness, half laughing in disbelief of his own words,"We're due to leave the palace in a few days when Nizam captures the Prince and Princess that fled. When we leave, you may come as well."

With a squeal of delight, Nasreen rushed forward. It became clear that she was going to try and kiss him again, and Zolm turned his face away.

"You don't have to do that," he muttered, feeling irritated and somewhat patronised by her unnecessary affections.  
"I'm only doing this because I think you may have a _glimmer_ of potential."

She giggled, "Do you think it's in my nature to do anything I _don't_ want to do?"

Without allowing him time to protest further, she turned his face and crushed her lips against his.

Immediately, the fire beneath his skin began to burn again. But this time it wasn't masquerading behind anger, or hatred but was showing itself for what it really was; pure, shameless and unadulterated _lust_. For the second time that night, he went against his better judgement and let his long suppressed and unfulfilled carnal needs take control.


	13. Chapter 12: Forseen Fates

**Authors Notes:** I sound like a broken record with all these apologies, but I'll spare you the list of excuses.

It's 3am and I know I haven't written my review replies, but I'll do them in the morning. So if you wrote a review and want to get my input on what you said, then check back later! I also apologise for any mistakes. If I'm not happy with something, I get my mum to read it, but she's in bed and I don't want to wake her.

Thank you so much to everyone who does review, and fave and put this on their alerts. I can't say enough how good it makes me feel about my story. Really, you're all the best. I just hope I still am living up to your expectations of me!

Woffles92 xx**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Forseen Fates **

As Tamina watched the hoard invaded this supposed 'hidden' city in the valley of the slaves, one resounding thought echoed in her head. _This is our fault, _my _fault. If I hadn't brought the dagger here none of this would have happened._

"We have to make a run for it," Dastan breathed.

"How? There's only one gate!" Tamina protested.

"No, there's a hidden tunnel under the city. If I can only remember how to get there…"  
He closed his eyes, desperately trying to recall the forgotten time. His memory of the last time he'd been here was hazy, like a dream he'd had long ago. Opening his eyes again, he scanned the town, looking for somewhere that was familiar to him. Then, he saw the Ostrich racetrack.

"There!" he pointed, "the tunnel is under there."

"And how do we get down from the roof?"

"I'll jump down and catch you," he replied almost immediately.

"But the height, Dastan, you're still not well…"

"I'm fine," he snapped in defiance. He'd be damned if he was going to let himself be caught because of a stupid illness. Quickly, he made his way to the edge of the roof and glanced down. It was only two stories up, but yet it made his head spin. Choking down the feeling of nausea, he gradually lowered himself down from the roof backwards, so he was dangling by his hands. As expected the muscles in his arms burned in agony. Taking one last glance below him, he let go.

Instead of landing in his usual graceful manner, he hit the ground hard, and his legs buckled. With a groan, he tried getting to his feet. People rushing past didn't stop to help. It was every man, woman and child for theirselves in the descent of the attack.

Tamina repeated Dastan's movements so she too was hanging off the roof. He positioned himself underneath to catch her.

"Let go!" he shouted and she did. Her body slammed into his with more force than he had expected, but he managed to hold his ground, while preventing her from hurting herself. He took her hand.  
"Now, run!"

They sped through the dusty streets, zigzagging through the panicking citizens who were running hither and thither in an escape attempt. Most of them seemed to be running in the opposite direction, suggesting that not very many people knew about the tunnel. Dastan's heart ached for them. He wanted nothing more than to stand in the middle of the street and tell them they were going the wrong way, that there was a way out, but he knew that there was no time. If he stopped to save others, they would likely be caught themselves. Shoving his conscience to one side, he pressed on.

They paused only for a moment, where Dastan armed himself with a scimitar from an abandoned blacksmiths along their path.

"Here," he said finally, as the approached the high stick fence of the Ostrich track. As they slipped in, a familiar voice rang out over the noise.

"Cut faster!"  
He glanced around to see the Sheik Amar and Seso standing nervously by a pen of Ostriches while a servant tried to cut the ropes that held their pen shut with a very blunt dagger.

"It's alright my lovelies," he crooned anxiously, stroking one through the bars, "We'll have you out soon."

Suddenly, Seso pointed at Tamina and Dastan.  
"Look!" he cried.

Amar snapped his head around.  
"Persian!" he yelled.

Dastan stood frozen in his tracks, momentarily confused. Did the Sheik remember?

"Now don't you look at me like that," the Sheik scoffed, striding over with the threatening manservant right behind him, "I know exactly who you are, and you too princess. You thought you had me fooled, eh?"

Dastan opened his mouth to reply, but Amar just kept talking.  
"This is your fault," he spat, "They're looking for you. I have a right mind just to hand you over to them."

"That won't solve anything," Dastan rushed, "They'll take us and carry on sacking. There's no way to stop them now."

"What makes you so sure?" quick as a flash he produced a dagger and held it point first under Dastan's chin.  
"I think your Uncle will be very _grateful_to have you back. They say the gods favour him so much, they brought him back from the dead."

"My Uncle is mad," Dastan spat.

"And he won't stop until every knee in Persia bows to his name," Tamina interjected. "We are on a mission to try and stop his…"

"Ha!" The Sheik laughed, "Would you get a load of these two. Nothing but lies. Round them up Seso, and we'll take them to the Persians."

"Sheik Amar listen to me," Dastan urged, "You have to trust us or one by one, every great nation in this world will fall to Nizam. He may have _gods_ on his side, but they're not the sort that you or I pray to. Either you help us, or the fate of Persia hangs over your head."

Amar regarded him cautiously.  
"Have we had the misfortune of meeting before, Persian?"

A small cheeky smile crept up into the corner of the Prince's mouth.  
"If we had met before _noble_Sheik, then you would know for sure that my acquaintance is no misfortune."

This earned him a steely glare from both Seso and the Sheik.

"And you will be rewarded handsomely," Tamina pressed, "My city is a wealthy one, and your generosity will be repaid many times over."

At the mention of money the Sheiks eyes gleamed greedily, but he was still wary of their promises. After a moment of obvious mental deliberation, he let out a cry of frustration.

"I don't know why I trust you Persian," he growled through gritted teeth, "But you better not betray it, or so help me, handing you over to your Uncle will be a welcome relief from what I'll dream up to do with you."

With a relieved sigh, Dastan shot a look to Tamina who gave a reluctant smile in response. They were by no means out of trouble yet, but they'd been given a glimmer of hope in a seemingly impossible situation.

With a few extra men, a couple of horses, and even a few Ostriches they stole through the tunnel and out into the desert, leaving the little town in the valley of the slaves to the mercy of Nizam's army.

* * *

As Zolm opened his eyes to the twilight of the pre-dawn, he tried remembering the last time he'd slept in relative peace, and couldn't. It took him a moment or two to remember the most probably reason.

Nasreen slept peacefully beside him, her swarthy limbs entangled in the luxurious sheets of the royal bedchamber. As he observed her, he could see dark, hand shaped bruises beginning to form on her arms. Maybe there were some more elsewhere on her slim body, but he didn't care to look. Perhaps he had been a little over zealous. But on the other hand, she had made no obvious complaint at the time, so why should he be concerned?

He moved his eyes up to her face and was a little startled to meet her open amber eyes.

"You're awake."  
He could think of nothing better to say at that point.

"We have a genius in our midst," she chuckled, in a voice that still croaked from sleep.

He ignored her comment and rolled onto his back. As he processed the motives and ultimately, _consequences_of his actions the night before, he observed the ornately decorated canopy above the bed.

"Not very talkative in the morning, are we?" she teased.  
Again, he deliberately ignored her, but as always, she was stubbornly determined to rile him.  
"Or perhaps, you're still speechless from our adventures?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. It was only truth in part. There was an unmistakeable satisfaction that had settled inside him, like a meal after a fast. But to let her know as much would have been a form of suicide. She'd won so many of their little battles, he couldn't dare to concede another. He was fiercely prepared to guard the shred of dignity that she'd yet to take from him.

She pouted her lips in a look of mock hurt.  
"I'm offended. Does this mean we're not going to lie here in each other's arms, watching the sun come up, whispering about how much we love each other?"

A wave of repulsion washed over him, and the very thought of it had his skin prickling with irritation.  
"Spare me the sentiment," he grunted, flinging aside the sheets as he made movements to leave the bed.

She laughed, in her own special way where you couldn't quite tell whether she was being sarcastic or genuine.

"Don't let me worry you," Nasreen reassured, "Do you really thing I'd be here if I wanted _that_?"

"Isn't that what all of you _women_want?" he snorted in disgust.

She laughed again, and this time he was almost sure her amusement was sincere.  
"But then you've wrongly made the assumption that I'm like all other women."

There was an extended moment of silence between them.

"Zolm…"  
The way she said his name sent an uncontrollable shiver through his body, reigniting the fire he thought he'd doused the night before. It was intolerable. He hated the power she wielded over him, and now that he'd given in once, he'd begun a dangerous descent. And the worst thing of all was that he _liked_it.

He was about to relent when he heard footfalls of someone approaching. Snapping his head around to warn her to hide; he could see that she was one step ahead of him and was already disappearing out of sight behind the bed.

Quickly he donned some of the clothes which had been _hastily_cast off the night before. It was nothing more and a serving boy, to inform him that Nizam required his presence.

_Required_. Once upon a time Nizam would have travelled a day through the desert to request an audience with _him_. All the power had gone to his head, but justifiably so. The times where he could have eliminated the Persian noble with the strike of a sword or by the use of the serpent were gone. Now that he'd made a deal with devils, he was vulnerable only if he didn't feed on enough souls, or if he was hurt by that damn dagger everyone was making such a fuss over.

He put on the rest of his garments and lastly enticed the serpent up his sleeve.  
"For once, do as you're told and stay here," he ordered Nasreen.

"I have no intentions of waiting around for any man, even those few I permit to share my bed," she replied.

"It's for your own good," he growled.

She simply shrugged her shoulders in that juvenile way that seemed to say; maybe I will, maybe I won't.

With an angry grunt, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

His mood was not improved at all when he arrived to be told that Nizam would see him in 'due course'. Zolm waited on no man, but he wasn't so sure that Nizam _was_ a man anymore. Out of the shadows, Horus, second in command of the Hassansins appeared before him.

"What news, brother?" Zolm asked, reading the tell-tale look of concern on his face.

"The soldiers sent to the valley of the slaves have returned with nothing more than stolen horses and a few captured women for their own amusement."

"Nothing of the Prince or Princess then?" Zolm stated with slight amusement. Why Nizam had bothered to send the soldiers in the first place still baffled him, when clearly the only people to succeed in a swift retrieval were Hassansins.

Horus shook his head.  
"They turned the place upside down. The town's leader, a Sheik by the name of Amar and several of his close company were reported to have fled to the mountains. Perhaps they took Dastan and Tamina with them?"

"Perhaps," Zolm sighed.

"I assume you're here so that we can be given leave to take over the mission ourselves?"

"Rightly so," the Hassansin leader scoffed.

Just then, the door to Nizam's council chambers opened and two guards dragged out what they recognised to be the captain of the soldiers who had been sent to the Valley. He was conscious, but that was just about all you could say about him. The look behind his eyes was dead, and it was clear to see that his mind had gone also.

"The price of failure," Horus muttered under his breath.

Zolm made a movement to go into the room, but Horus grabbed his arm and bend to his ear.

"Take care," he whispered urgently, "Nizam is unpredictable, and dangerous, even by our standards. Don't antagonise him. The sooner we find Dastan and Tamina, the sooner we can put this cursed place behind us."

Slightly unsettled by his friend's words, Zolm gave him a nod of understanding and went into the room.

"You wanted to see me, my Lord," he addressed Nizam politely as he entered.

"There's no need for this to be an extensive exchange," the Persian stated offhandedly, "I assume you know why I've brought you here?"

"Your nephew and the princess have yet to be found."

"Indeed. I had the naivety to think that my soldiers were capable of carrying out the simple instructions, but of course they're fools every one of them," he sighed.

"My brothers and I shall leave immediately then," said Zolm.

"No," Nizam interrupted sharply, "You'll act alone. I need the others here for my personal protection."

"But sir, surely we have more chance of…"

"I have underestimated my nephew one too many times before Hassansin," he snapped, "And I'll be damned if I make the same mistake again. Kill them for all I care, I just want that dagger back. Do I make myself clear?"

Zolm was tempted to make a comment that Nizam should have sent him in the first place, but heeded Horus' words and held his tongue. With a bow of submissiveness Zolm turned to leave. However, as he walked towards the door, two guards entered before him, carrying a wriggling and protesting human mass between them.

Although he let no emotion cross his face, he felt as though an invisible fist had landed a blow to his gut. He had _told_her to stay in his room.

"My lord," one of them spoke, "We found this _wench_ trying to steal some of the gold platters used for banquets. Two other guards have already met their end by her hand before we could restrain her."

The notion that Nasreen had went down fighting was of little comfort to Zolm at the moment. He'd thought her too sensible to get caught, but clearly no one was infallible, not even her. He began to think fast. How to get her out of this one? He'd have to invent a story. Perhaps Nizam would believe that she was his paramour, and that he would take responsibility for her punishment? But even in his head, the reasoning seemed pathetic.

She shot him an expectant look, her piercing eyes demanding that he do something.

"A thief and a murderess, and it's still only morning. You have been busy," Nizam scoffed.

"If it had been stealing, then I would have taken only your hand. But the punishment for murder is death also."

With a flourish, he drew his finger across his throat.  
"Beheading."

For a brief moment, Zolm felt a strange relief. They'd hold her in the cells before the execution. Surely there would be enough time for him to slip in and release her?

They had been right when they'd told him women were far more trouble than they were worth, and Nasreen was just that.

"Such a careless waste of life though," he mused, stepping towards her. Zolm bit back the urge to step forward himself and put himself between them. But he'd just end up giving the game away. To show her any obvious favouritism would only be her downfall. Nizam reached out to stroke her cheek, but she whipped her head around and tried to bite him.

"Go to hell," she yelled.

He laughed with a gleaming glint of greed in his eyes.  
"Such spirit and fire...what youth...and such a pretty head, I'm almost reluctant to remove it from your shoulders. No, I have a much better use for you."

It happened without warning. Zolm had no time to react as with one swift movement Nizam grabbed her face in his hands. She opened her mouth and the most terrible scream erupted. Rooted to the spot by confusion and disbelief, Zolm recognised this moment. He'd seen this before in his visions. This was the moment when Nasreen died.


	14. Chapter 13: Seeking Revenge

**Author's notes: **I can't apologies enough for the length of time it's taken me to get this chapter up. I nearly have the next chapter written as well so you wont have to wait long for it either. Can I just take a moment to thank everyone who's stuck with this story. The view count still goes up and so too do the favourites and the alerts. For this I am so encouraged by. Like Nizam, my story has been resurrected, but I don't need to take your souls as payment! :D

You may want to read over a few chapters to remind yourself what's going on! Also, I feel like it's been too long since my last update for me to be comfortable that what I've written is of the same standard as the rest of the story. I can't tell because it's my story, but if there's been a drop in quality due to my absence from writing I can only say sorry, and hope that it gets better now I'm writing again!

Comment replies:

Iamthestig - Thank you for this. I'm glad you enjoyed the twist, and that you appreciate that I do know where this story is going, even if my poor readers do not!  
Everybody Dance- Hope that when you said "can't" wait, you really meant that you could and you're still reading this! ;)  
Goddess of the sands - Can't promise much Dastamina in this chapter but you can be sure that there will be loads in the next one!  
SilenceCat- Every writer loves doing cliffhangers! I'm so glad you like Zolm and Nasreen, when I brought in an OC i was nervous no-one would take to her!  
Sorree - Answer is just down below ;)  
Starfish - I'm so glad Zolm/Nasreen are your favourite. I'll try to be as... nice... to them as I can but I make no promises for anything!  
Twiceonsunday - Wow! The best characters? That's such an amazing complement for me, thank you so much and I hope you continue reading!  
Sumbunnyluvsu77 - Thanks for reviewing, you've no idea how much it means to me, especially since you said you don't often review!  
Callista252 - Thank you! Hope this chapter is worth your wait!  
NegligibleNaina - Look, see... I am updating... it just took a very long time! Hope it's worth it!  
Peacefreakx3 - Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!

_**Woffles92** _

* * *

Chapter 13 – Seeking Revenge

As they dragged her limp body from the room Zolm felt oddly detached, as if he wasn't really there at all. He remembered that this was how dreams felt, could this really be happening, or were his visions intruding on his slumber?

"Was there something else you wanted Hassansin?" Nizam asked brazenly, "You have your orders."

Zolm was brought back to reality and the understanding of what had occurred hit him with the full force of its clarity. He fought down the rage that threatened to erupt. Nizam had killed her, or as good as. His hand hovered over his sword as he suffered a moment of indecision of whether or not to slice Nizam open. Was he really invincible to all but these supposed 'sacred' blades? If Zolm took the risk and found that it had all just been an elaborate deception then he would have the satisfaction of taking revenge for Nasreen. If Nizam had been telling the truth then his efforts would be fruitless and he would condemn himself to the same hopeless fate. While he wrestled with himself, he still remembered the cornerstone of his teachings; that above all, he must not let his emotions show. If your enemies could see that you were troubled in any way, then they had already won half their battle.

There was a sickening sense of irony to that logic, he realised, because if he'd had managed to put that into practice with Nasreen then he never would have given into her wiles and none of this would have happened. It struck him, not for the first time in his life, but certainly for the first time in many years that the world was a cold and cruel place.

"No, my lord," he answered calmly, although he was imagining the beautifully horrified look on Nizam's face as he plunged the 'holy' blade through his ribs and up into his still beating heart so as to make sure, human or not, that the damage done would be unmistakably fatal.

"Then go."

With a small bow of his head, the Hassansin left the room. Horus immediately joined him again.

"When do we leave?" he asked expectantly.

"_We_ don't. Nizam has commanded that I act alone and the rest of the brothers are to remain here as his own personal guard," Zolm said, his voice quiet and calm despite the turmoil inside him.

"A compliment to your skills no doubt, but still, we have always carried out our missions together. Alone we are strong, but together we are invincible."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," the serpent master snapped, "But if I fear that you suggest that to his _lordship_ then you may end up in the same way as that _girl_ they dragged from here…"

A girl, that's all she was. Sure, she had begun to show signs of womanhood, but she had been too young, and utterly underserving of what had happened. The effort required to keep his feelings under control was physically painful.

"There's a reason that we are forbidden from taking lovers," Horus murmured, his voice full of an emotion somewhere between sympathy and condemnation.

Zolms heart seemed to miss a beat and his icy eyes flashed with momentary confusion. There was no coincidence here. He knew, but how? As if reading his mind, he continued to speak.  
"I saw you and her during my last meditation."

Even though Zolm knew that visions of the other brothers dark and deepest secrets, past and present, was an unavoidable consequence of living in such a tightly woven community, he still couldn't help feel somewhat violated. Then, he felt ashamed and angry. He was supposed to be their leader and set an example, but he had been found to be weak and unworthy.

"They keep them in the dungeons," Horus continued, "The people that Nizam…_uses_. I know it might be difficult for you, but perhaps it would be a mercy if you finished her passage to the afterlife? It's cruel to leave her languishing somewhere in between this world and the next."

The thought had not occurred to him but there was a painful truth to the words. What must it be like for her? Was she alive and stuck in a body that would not respond, or was everything about her dead, save for the heart that still beat and the lungs that still drew breath?

"Be ready for my return," Zolm commanded deliberately refusing to let Horus in on his thoughts, "And prepare the brothers for any orders, no matter how unexpected, understand?"

With a nod of his head, Horus left him. As his head swam, Zolm returned to his chambers to gather together his things, but no matter how he tried, he still couldn't get the thought of Nasreen hovering perpetually somewhere between life and death out of his mind. He felt physically sick, like the first time he had ingested snake venom. He'd vomited for three days as he drifted in and out of a fever, and it was that sensation now that threatened to consume him. Disgusted by his own weakness he made a decision then and there that he would pay a visit to the dungeons and prove that he was no weakling.

* * *

There was no getting used to the inane chatter of the Sheik, Dastan decided as the small company trekked their way slowly through the sands, leading their horses instead of riding to save them for a sudden burst of speed if necessary.

"It took me years to build up that racing empire…_years_! Bloody Persians. No offence to you prince, but do you know what really gets me about your lot?"

When it became clear that the question wasn't rhetorical and that Sheik Amar really did want an answer, Dastan pretended to look as interested as possible.

"No, what?"

"Taxes. All you seem to do is tax, tax, tax."

Amar mimed the act of strangling to reinforce the point he was trying to get across.

"That's why I run my little operation in the desert, so I can evade the taxman , do you get what I'm saying?"

Dastan chuckled.  
"Being third in line, I never learned about the financial running of country, my brothers Tus and Garsiv had the unpleasant task of sitting through those lessons. I'll be sure to mention it the next time the subject comes up."

Even as he said it, talking of the future so casually felt somewhat wrong, but he decided not to think about it too much. After all, there was nothing wrong with being optimistic.

In sharp contrast to the Sheik, his manservant Seso, said very little. He was tall and intimidating, and had skin the colour of burnt bread. There were a few others in their company who had followed them from the hidden city when they had made their escape. The company were skirting around the base of the mountains as they made their way to nowhere. They were escaping from Nizam's army, but where their ultimate destination lay was unknown. There was nothing left for them to go back to in the Valley of the slaves, they had seen the smoke and knew that all that remained of the outlaw sanctuary was some charred wood, piles of rubble, and a few ostrich feathers floating on the breeze.

Alamut was a possible destination, but before they headed straight into the scorpion's nest, they needed a plan of action. So for now, they wandered, keeping the mountains close in case they were spotted by one of Nizam's patrols and needed to lose themselves quickly.

Tamina had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had left the valley. Dastan watched her as they walked, observing the subtle changes in her face as she thought. She was exquisite; painfully so. Her dark hair was braided practically, yet elegantly. Yet it wasn't just her beauty that ignited a fire within him. No, she had a determination to match even Nizam's, but instead of evil, it was for all that was good and right. She was a competent ruler who loved every single citizen of Alamut. He supposed that's why she was so distant, anguished by the suffering of her people under his Uncles murderous new regime. He placed his hand, rough and calloused by years of holding a sword into hers, which was as soft as the finest Asian silks. She looked up at him and gave a weak smile.

"Are you alright? I'm sure we could stop and rest if…"

Tamina gave a chuckle.

"I'm made of stronger stuff than that Dastan. I spent three days in an inn with nothing to do but rest."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. For a moment there was a lovely content silence between them as they both savoured a moment of intimacy in something so simple as holding each other's hands, almost forgetting the reality of their situation. Then, as Dastan glanced to the horizon, he knew that their time was up.

"Sandstorm," he muttered in frustration.

"We need to get out of here," Tamina breathed with a note of fear not quite hidden in her words.

He smiled. Maybe it was just coincidence, or perhaps some events in time are doomed to repeat themselves, but he responded just as he had before.

"Only a Princess would think she could outrun a sandstorm."

* * *

The prison was located underneath the palace and as a result it never saw the sun, and was known to be one of the coolest places in the city. However, as Zolm descended the narrow spiral stairs he was unnerved to discover that the deeper he went, the warmer it got. The second thing he noticed was the stench. It was natural for prisons to stink, but the smell coming from the bodies that were crammed into the cells was so overpowering that he thought he might retch.

The guard at the entrance, who didn't even look up as Zolm entered had a very bitter expression on his face, and it occurred to the Hassansin that to guard the cells through the heat and stench was in itself a punishment.

Inside, the cells were fit to burst, and because most of the doors were open, it did indeed look like the excessive occupancy had forced the gates open. Despite the number of people, there was very little movement. Very few of the prisoners were conscious thanks to Nizam's new form of punishment. Zolm raked his eyes over the faces that sat, or lay, around the room, thoroughly checking each one for any sign of _her_. In one cell, there was a woman who was fully aware, attending to one of the lifeless forms. Momentarily intrigued, the snake master looked closer and felt a disgusted clench of his stomach when he realised that the lifeless body belonged to that of a girl who couldn't be more than six years old. Suddenly the woman turned and met his gaze through the gap in her headscarf. Through her eyes he could see nothing but pain. The feeling that she was conveying to him was so overwhelming that he had to leave for fear that her sorrow would swallow him up as well.

Quickly, he moved on, searching every corner until, at last, he found her. The sight of her, proper up against the wall stirred rage deep inside him. She looked every bit a corpse, except that her eyes, now uncharacteristically dull and lacklustre, were open and every few moments her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He stood, staring at Nasreen, still disbelieving that the blazing youth who had set him alight had been reduced to nothing but a barely glowing ember. The longer he stood, the more the fury began to swell and grow within him. It was unjust and inhuman. With shaking fingers, he unstrapped the dagger he kept up his sleeve and grasped it so tightly around the hilt that the skin of his knuckles turned impossibly white. He couldn't just leave her like this. There was one final thing that he could do, one small victory that he could snatch from under the feet of Nizam. He would save her from the suffering and from the indignity of wasting away from thirst and hunger while surrounded in her own filth.

This was his fault, everything that was happening rested on his shoulders for he had been the one to bring the monster back from beyond the grave. It sickened him, and if he hadn't taken it upon himself to personally reverse his actions and send the Persian back to wherever he had been summoned from, he would have seriously considered falling on his blade and being done with the whole wretched business of living.

Zolm's eyes were wide with an unhealthy mix of hatred and determination as he swiftly moved across the cramped call. He raised the dagger high. With a guttural scream that was the accumulation of his wrath, he brought the blade down in one swift blow that pierced flesh, muscle and bone.

The Hassansin breathed deeply, fighting back the terrible wave of emotion the threatened to overwhelm him. At the crucial moment, he had failed. He was a murderer by profession, but of course, she was the exception.

He had worked himself into such a frenzy that even as he realised he couldn't douse the flickering embers of her life, he still had to kill _something_. So instead, he had driven his dagger through the chest of the man lying on the floor next to her. When he pulled the knife out, there was no rush of blood, not even a trickle. He felt dissatisfied to find that this man had been dead long before either he or Nasreen had been in the prison. The irony of it caused him a brief moment of amusement. He had so desperately wanted to kill something, yet had stabbed a corpse.

But now what was he to do? He couldn't leave her to starve, but at the same time he couldn't take her with him. As he puzzled over his dilemma, one of the many flies that had been buzzing around in the squalor landed on her cheek. With lightening reflexes, he grabbed it and crushed it between his fingers, enjoying the small fleeting satisfaction of it. Now, he had killed something.

"Is the pretty one yours?"

Zolm spun his head around to see the woman from earlier. He found himself incapable of speech and so gave a short nod of his head.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly.

Her compassion made the Hassansin feel awkward. Luckily he was saved from further discomfort as she spoke again.

"He took my daughter from me," she began, and behind her veil he could see tears glistening as they spilled from her dark eyes.

"A new law was made, and no family was allowed to pack up and leave the city without paying tax. We didn't know this tax would be one of his monstrous sacrifices. My husband offered himself, and so did my eldest son, but Nizam insisted that it was Aeesha. Now we can't even leave this dreadful place because I cannot leave her, and we are not allowed to take her with us. I pray to the gods at every sunrise and sunset that they will make that maniac suffer for this madness in the eternal fires of hell!"

Ever more determined to avenge Nasreen, Aeesha and every other wronged person whose soul had been taken so that Nizam might live, Zolm found his voice.

"I plan to send him there myself."

"Then the gods be with you, friend," she replied.

Inspired, he reached inside his cloak and withdrew the leather bag that contained his coins. Uncomfortably, he offered it out to the woman.

"I must go away, but I cannot leave her here to starve. Take this, and when you come to feed your daughter, will you do the same for Nasreen?"

Slowly, the woman reached out and took the purse gently from him.  
"Of course."

Zolm had no guarantee that she would look after Nasreen, but something deep inside him said he could trust her.  
"Thank you."

"May the gods bless you, friend," she added, "for if you don't stop Nizam then I fear no-one will."

Without pausing to reply to her, he left the prison, allowing himself one final look back at Nasreen. He would collect his horse, and would set out to track Dastan and Tamina and take that damnable dagger from them, by whatever means necessary.


	15. Chapter 14: Control The Storm

**Author's notes**: Ah! I see some of you are still reading this! Thanks again for all your comments! Urgh... 4am... summer has completely screwed with my body clock!

**Alethea Melanie-Rose** - I know, I kinda feel sorry for Zolm too when I'm writing bits of this! Also, I'm glad you found the last chapter epic! Hope this one is too!  
**sorree** - Glad it was worth the wait, and it's great to know that the depth and humanity that I'm trying to give my characters is coming across!  
**exnavybrat89** - Great to know that you appreciate Zolm much more here than in the movie! Means I'm doing my job right!  
**Max Pettyfer** - Thank you so much for your lovely comment! Yes, Nasreen and Zolm are complex people, so of course their relationship is naturally going to be the same ;)  
**Yume** - Thanks so much! I was worried when writing this that people would only find some of the story lines interesting, but it's good to know that you love them all!  
**Peacefreakx3** - Definitely E.v.i.l.! Pity he was the last to realise or things might have been a little better for poor Zolm ;)

**Woffles92 xx**

* * *

Chapter 14 - Control The Storm

"What do you make of that?" Garsiv asked, his voice croaky from a long silence. He and Tus had little to say to each other after the time they had spent together in the cell, but having just witnessesd the very peculiar scene, there was finally something worth talking about. The oldest of the Persian princes opened his eyes from either prayer or sleep.

"Make of what?"

Garsiv rolled his eyes.  
"Trust you to sleep through the only interesting thing to happen for days!"

He supposed that they had been here for days, but there was no way that he could be sure. Without windows, there was no way of knowing when it was night and when it was day. They slept fitfully and often, which just added to the confusion of the passage of time.

When Garsiv had finished explaining what had happened, his brother closed his eyes in what appeared to be thought, but he took so long that the middle prince was sure he had gone back to sleep. He was just about to give Tus a kick when he opened his eyes.

"The stranger won't succeed," he stated matter-of-factly, "Those powers came from the gods, and it is only they who can take them away again. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this before you will finally understand."

Garsiv slammed an angry fist against the dirt floor.  
"But that's just it! If there's nothing that can be done then it means there is no hope of a reprieve, and I just can't accept that!"

"Don't be so unfaithful!" Tus rebuked, "There is always hope, we just have to put our trust in the gods of justice and mercy, that they will see the devastation that Nizam is reeking on this land, and that he will meet his end soon."

"Of course that's your answer. Pray and everything will be alright? Will forgive me if I don't join you brother, for I believe that any gods worthy of my prayer and worship wouldn't allow such madness to reign!"

Tus gave him a knowing smile.  
"Worthy? You think the gods need your prayers and worship? They could snuff out your life in an instant, they could kill ever man, woman and child in Alamut and beyond with a single whisper yet they allow us to live. That is why we worship them, and that is why I pray they will forgive you for your blasphemy."

Garsiv glared at being reprimanded in this way, but didn't say anything further.

"Just be patient little brother, for it may be in an hour, or in a year, but the gods will deliver us!"

* * *

The wind raged outside, causing the sides of the tent to blow in and out in a rapid and noisy fashion as a seemingly unending wall of sand bombarded it.

Tamina was sitting with her legs pulled tight against her chest with her chin resting on her knees. Her deep brown eyes stared at the fabric of the tent wall as it billowed.

"Are you cold?" Dastan asked, concerned. Even though they were in the middle of the desert, whenever the sun set or was hidden in a sandstorm, it was always a surprising how quickly that the heat disappeared and left an unfriendly chill.

She looked up, startled.  
"Sorry," she muttered, "I was miles away."

"I asked if you were cold," he repeated patiently.

Tamina paused for a moment as though it was something she hadn't thought about, and then nodded her head.  
"A little," she admitted.

Dastan moved close, put his arms around her shoulder and pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be taken into his embrace, thankful for the warmth of his body. For a few moments, they remained like that, enjoying the feeling of being physically close to each other. Eventually, Dastan spoke.

"I'm curious. When you said you were miles away, where exactly were you?"

In truth Tamina had been back at the broken down inn, at his bedside as the fever ravaged him. She had almost lost him then, yet the journey they were making now was no less dangerous. Their _companionship_, or whatever name could be given to the unusual nature of their relationship, was fragile. To protect the sacred dagger was no easy task, and thoughts of Alamut being left to ruin under Nizam came to her fitfully. Yet all the while she was haunted by the tangible prospect of losing Dastan in her efforts. A week ago, she would have been focused and determined on the destiny that had been thrust upon her at birth. Now her heart had two champions who were locked in an unending battle, with neither gaining advantage. Of course, she wasn't about to tell Dastan all this, for men had no understanding of the wars women waged on themselves.

"Nowhere special," she lied.

"As long as you're here with me now, that's all that matters," he replied softly, as his lips turned up in a dreamy smile.

Her heart seemed to grow too large for her chest and she was sure that it was going to burst at any moment. Moving her body around so that she could see him clearly, she gave into impulse, took his face in her hands and kissed him. Dastan was momentarily surprised by her sudden affection but was only too willing to reciprocate. What had only been intended as a brief moment of affection quickly turned into something much more as the kiss deepened. It ignited a burning sensation between them that was unlike anything Tamina had experienced before. The taste of him excited her as their mouths moved in a perfect harmony. He put his hands on her, and his touch, even through the material of her clothes sent shivers running every which way over her skin. Without even thinking, a groan of pleasure escaped her throat as his hands traced all the way from the curve of her waist to the back of thigh.

Suddenly, fear gripped Tamina and she felt as though she was about to suffocate. She was transported back through memories and saw the creased face of the old priestess as she wagged a bony finger, telling her all the horrible fates that awaited those who indulged in lustful acts before marriage. With a shove, she pushed herself back from Dastan whose face crumpled into a look of hurt and concern.

"What did I do?" he asked fearfully.

Tamina had placed her hand over her mouth and her eyes were clamped tightly shut.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered between her fingers, "I can't."

"Was it something I did?"

"No! No, of course it wasn't you. I… I shouldn't have done that."

Dastan took a deep breath, then let it out again slowly.  
"I know I made you a promise that after we were married I wouldn't ask anything of you that you weren't comfortable with but…"

As he trailed off a mischievous smile played across his lips.  
"You're not exactly making it easy for me."

Tamina didn't seem to share in his amusement.  
"But that's the problem isn't it?" she scowled, "We're not married."

His smile faded.

"So that's the reason. You're angry because we were never married?"

"I'm not angry."

"Well you could have fooled me."

He shot her a look that was something like resentment as he said, "So we can't even kiss until we've been properly wed?"

Tamina's face flushed with what could have been embarrassment or bad temper, but probably both.  
"Of course you may kiss me, just not like _that_!"

"As I recall it was you who initiated that little exchange, princess," Dastan snorted with indignation.

"And I said I was sorry!"

The hastily erected tent now felt overwhelmingly small and there was no sign of any let up from the storm that raged outside.

"What is marriage anyway?" Dastan asked without invitation, "It's a lot of pomp and ceremony over something that should be the intimate choice of two people."

Tamina was aghast.  
"How can you say that? The marriage vows are a promise made before the gods to bless the union of man and woman. All this pomp and ceremony as you call it is to call the attention of the gods to witness it."

"But don't you believe the gods are always watching us?" he countered.

"A union isn't sanctioned unless done so by a priest."

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth, and then closed them again. On his second attempt he managed to speak.  
"All right then," he said calmly, "You're a priestess, aren't you? If it's so important then why couldn't you do it?"

A laugh of disbelief escaped from her lips.

"You can't be serious?"

Dastan shrugged his shoulders, indicating that she would have to make up her own mind as to whether or not he was serious.

"Who do you think marries peasants that live too far from the city? Or what do you think they did in the days before priests and temples?" he persisted.

"You can't perform your own wedding!"

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't!" she cried.

At this point he realised that he'd pushed her too far, and he even regretted perusing this path of though for as long as he had. Her face was a thunderous mix of anger and hurt.

"I never asked you to share my beliefs Dastan, but I had thought you would have been enough of a man to respect them!"

The small space of the tent was now suffocating. In the silence that followed Tamina realised that although inside the thin canvas walls there was a storm brewing, the winds outside seemed to have ceased. She opened a gap to see out and her heart lifted as she had her suspicions confirmed that indeed the sandstorm had passed.

"God's be praised," she muttered as she left, relieved to be out of the unpleasant atmosphere. Without a word to Dastan she made her way across the sand and stomped down a dune, leaving a trail of fresh footprints in the smooth sand. She clenched her fists trying to control her anger as she paced up and down, kicking sand with her beaded slippers in an attempt to relieve some frustration.

She glanced back over her shoulder to see the others slowly emerging from their tents. To her annoyance, so to was Dastan. Whirling back around she stomped further in the opposite direction.

"Tamina!"

Gritting her teeth she quickened her pace, but even as she did she could feel his presence growing closer behind her. She whirled around to see him following her, a hurt expression on his rugged face.

"Leave me alone Dastan!" she yelled over her shoulder.

He ignored her and sped up, running awkwardly as the sand shifted unpredictably under his feet. She looked quickly over her shoulder again, and seeing that he had almost caught up with him she began to run.

"I said, leave me alone!"

But he was quicker. Dastan grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

"Tamina," he pleaded, "Just listen to me for a moment."

She pressed her hands hard against his chest, pushing back from him, but he had both her arms now and held her steady.

"Let me go," she hissed, wriggling to free herself from his grasp.

"Not until you listen to me," he replied gently.  
"I'm sorry that I offended you. I know how important your beliefs are too you and I shouldn't have questioned them like that."

She stopped fighting now, and straightened up to fix him with a cold gaze.

"No," she agreed, "you shouldn't have. I don't ask why you're an ignorant ass, so you don't get to question my religion."

Her words were said with a barbed tongue with intent to injure, but instead he just laughed and she couldn't help but feel the tension between them begin to ebb away.

"I guess I deserved that," he said kindly, and Tamina began to feel her vicious remark had been unjust.

"No," she sighed, "You didn't. I'm just… tired."

She allowed him to pull her close in an embrace.

"We all are," he replied.

Tamina sighed, releasing all the tension that had been built up inside her. Of course she had been offended at his mildly blasphemous comments. But it wasn't the fact that he had said it that she found frustrating, it was that he had actually made _sense_.

They remained like that for some time, just holding onto each other as they tried to make sense of what their life had become in the madness of the last few days. Then, the blissful calm was shattered as a coarse voice came from the camp.

"Oy! You two lovebirds coming or not?" Sheik Amar called to them.

Slowly, they walked back together.

"Seso thinks we should find some proper shelter before night. He says there's _something_ odd in the air. A load of mumbo jumbo if you ask me, but I don't see the harm, besides, if we get caught in another one of those bloody sand storms I'll be picking sand out of my ass for a week!"

Dastan laughed and Tamina crinkled her nose at his crude words.

"There's a little oasis at the bottom of…" she counted the peaks of the mountains to get her bearings, "that one. I'm sure we'll be safe there."

The Sheik nodded in approval and they began to gather their things together.

* * *

By a fire somewhere in the desert, the Hassansin snapped open his ice cold eyes and a satisfied grin spread across his lips, causing the burnt side of his face to wrinkle.

"Got you," he whispered triumphantly.


	16. Chapter 15  One Night

**Author's notes:** I don't even know if anyone is reading this any more. But I'm determined to finish it, even if it's just for some personal closure. If you're still out there, thank you so much for sticking with me. Really, it means the world to me. There won't be too many chapters left but I don't know when they'll get written considering how long this one took.

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy.

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 15 – One Night**

As they picked their way along the mountain trail, Tamina tried desperately to recognise the path to the temple. That was their destination, she had decided. It had been imprinted on her mind that when there was nowhere else, the mountain temple was to be her refuge. Dastan hadn't told her much about their time together before he had altered the timeline, and she was afraid that he might know the reason she was bringing them, and the dagger, to the temple. But it was necessary; the dagger had to be returned to the Gods, that way Nizam couldn't throw the world into any more chaos. An immoral was bad enough but one who could control time was an abomination she couldn't allow.

There was also Dastan's safety to consider. Once the dagger had been returned, he would be free from his burden, and they would no longer hunt him. The simple thought that he would not be harmed was worth paying any price. A shiver ran across her skin, and she remembered how cold the mountains could be, even though they had barely begun to climb.

Just then, a heavy travelling cloak was wrapped around her shoulders. Dastan smiled and all the determination that she had been building up around her purpose crumbled to dust. How could she possibly leave him after all they had been through together? She could feel the hot pin pricks of tears as they threatened the corners of her eyes and she busied herself with tying the cloak in place.

Although she was managing to hide it well, Dastan knew rightly where she was taking them. They had travelled this road before. He remembered it vividly, they were about to come upon the place where they had been ambushed by Amar, before making their way to the hidden sanctuary. There they had met with the Hassansins, and Dastan balled his hands into fists as he recalled watching Garsiv die there. If he didn't know better than to question her judgements, he would have. She would just have to be watched, to make sure that she didn't try to do anything stupidly heroic.

Tamina stopped and gave an elated sigh.

"Our journey is blessed. We'll stop for water and push for the mountain pass by nightfall."

She glanced quickly at Dastan to gauge his reaction.

"We're sure to be safe there from any of Nizam's patrols."

She was trying to deceive him, he realised, as he fought back the feeling of uneasiness as they approached the familiar oasis.

"I don't think so Princess," Amar panted as he brought his horse alongside theirs, "We'll make camp here tonight. I'm not making my men travel any further today."

Tamina sucked on her lips, and for a moment she looked like a spoiled child who had been denied dessert.

"Fine," she relented, and it gave Dastan a brief moment of comedic relief as he realised that not even trying to save the world could change the princess' mannerisms completely.

* * *

It had taken him the most of two days to catch up to them, but as he crested the hill Zolm could see the faint orange glow of their camp fire. The dagger was within his grasp, and so too was the sweet revenge he would exact on Nizam once it was in his possession.

Dusk was falling fast. In a few hours they would all huddle together around the dying embers and sleep. Then, he would release the serpents to dispose of them with their quick venom. The element of surprise was his, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

* * *

Dastan was teetering on the verge of sleep when he heard the faint sounds of rustling. He took a deep breath and tried to push the unsettling noises to the back of his mind. They were in an oasis, so there would probably be numerous animals, attracted by the fire no doubt.

Then, the memories of the last time he lay by this fire, in the shelter of this same oasis hit him with a jolt and he sat up immediately. Just as he had feared, several huge black asps were emerging from the sand and making their way through the sleeping bodies. Out of the corner of his eye he could see one as it slithered across Tamina's body. She was awake now, but paralyzed with fear as it advanced slowly towards her. There was no time to help anyone, he realised with a sickening feeling, for any sudden movements on his part would surely only serve to provoke the creatures.

With a slow calculated movement, he reached for the dagger at his belt, only to discover that she had been the one to carry it last. He looked quickly over and saw the ruby hilt wink at him in the light from the fire. He made a grab for it, and as he did the snake lunged forward, striking its long venom filled fangs into the soft flesh of her neck.

For a moment, he couldn't move, stunned by what he had just witnessed, then, as the serpent rounded on him, he made a dive for the dagger. His thumb pressed down on the ruby just as the creature sprang towards him, mouth wide and fangs exposed. Much to his relief, the scene slowed and then stopped, and he felt himself being pulled backwards by invisible hands.

In a way which was almost morbidly comical, everything began to move in reverse. He watched as the snake withdrew its fangs from Tamina's neck leaving soft and unmarked skin there. They began slithering backwards, disappearing under the sands again tails first. Desperately, Dastan tried to take it all in, and remember where each of them had come from so as to make his attack swift.

When the jolt that thrust him back into time occurred, he leapt to his feet and unsheathed his scimitar with unparalleled speed, slicing a snake in two as it emerged from the sand. With his boot, he picked up another and hurled it into the fire where it hissed and thrashed as its scaly flesh burned to cinders. One made a beeline for Tamina and he stabbed at it with the point of his sword, only to miss the main bulk of the body in favour of its tail. Angry now, it rounded on him and tried to strike but found that it was firmly held in place. Dastan brought his heel down on the creatures head with a sickening crunch.

With a flourish, he flung the dagger at Amar, cutting off the head of another as it reared its head to strike him. The Sheik looked at him incredulously.

"Persian, how did you know how to do that?" he spluttered.

"Instinct," the Prince replied, as he retrieved the blade from where it had embedded into the trunk of a tree. He and Tamina exchanged a knowing glance.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Dastan surveyed the carnage that lay around the encampment. The coloured servant had also taken up arms in the attack, but even that combined with Dastan's foresight, there had still been casualties. Several of the men who had fled the outlaw camp with them lay writhing in agony, crying out as the fiery venom pulsated through their veins. Heartbroken, Seso set about the grim task of making sure that their suffering was short lived.

The princes' heart sank as he caught sight of the sand dervish disappearing into the distance, and knowing what that meant.

"We have to get out of here."

* * *

Fury did not begin to describe how Zolm felt, as he retreated to a safe distance. The fact that he had been thwarted was unthinkable. What would his brothers say if they could see him now? The Prince must have been using the dagger to give him the advantage. If there was something to be salvaged from his defeat, it was that they were now fewer in number, and he knew now how to better them. The dagger was the key. It must first be in his possession, and then eliminating them would be a relatively simple task.

In the distance, a thin blue line on the horizon told him that dawn was approaching. The party was moving off now, and he knew exactly where their ultimate destination lay.

All the stories about the dagger and its origins, the temple, and where the original pact had been made between the princess and the gods came to the front of his mind. That's where she was taking them. For a brief moment Zolm wondered how the Persian prince could possibly stand by and watch his betrothed sacrifice herself. It mattered not. All he knew was that he had to make sure that she did not succeed. If the dagger was returned to the gods, it was all over. He would never get vengeance for Nasreen, and for the rest of his days on this god forsaken earth, he would be haunted by the image of her glazed eyes and limp body as she rotted alive in an Alamution cell.

* * *

The next night they camped in tents made from their travelling cloaks and the rugs they had brought. Not too high above their heads, the mountain peaks were covered with snow. It was far too cold to sleep beneath the starts tonight.

As she gazed into the flickering flames, Tamina could only think of one thing, and that was the dagger. They had all nearly died the previous night, and there was something inside her that told her it was her fault. For all of her life, she had been engrained with the purpose of returning the dagger and now she was putting everyone at risk by its remaining in her possession. But as the true reality of her destiny became apparent, she could feel emotions beginning to well up within her.

She wanted nothing more than to run away from it all with Dastan but she knew deep in her heart that she would forever feel remorse. And they would always be hunted for the dagger, they could never move on. What kind of future would she be shackling him to if she was so selfish as to ask him to flee with her?

So, this was how it was to be. Tomorrow she would return the dagger to the temple and give herself over to the gods. A single tear made a track down her face, a mark of sorrow for all the things that she would never experience.

Without a word, she stood up and retreated to the little tent that had been set up for her. Her sudden departure confused Dastan who went to rise and follow her, but remembered he had said he would keep watch for some of the night in case of another attack.

"You should go see what troubles her," Seso said gently.

"I'm on watch," the Prince answered in a way that he meant to sound responsible, but sounded more like he was pronouncing a death sentence.

The Sheik's manservant chuckled deeply.

"I will take your watch instead. Go and see what the matter is."

Dastan stood beside the flap of Tamina's tent and cleared his throat tentatively.

"Tamina, are you okay?"

He heard her sniff from inside, a sign that she was or had been crying. Not waiting for an answer he pushed his way into the small canvas room. Even in the almost non-existent light he could see the glimmer of fresh tears on her cheeks. Without a word he went to her and pulled her gently into an embrace.

"I'm just so exhausted," she lied, pressing her damp face into his shoulder.

"We all are," he reassured. And hungry and scared, he added mentally. After some moments of silence, Tamina raised her head from his shoulder. She had one night left with him. Was there any way to reconcile a life lost in just one night? In the darkness, she found his lips and kissed them softly.

"What was that for?" he chuckled quietly, wiping away the dampness from her cheeks.

"Is that a complaint?" Tamina teased.

"Certainly not."

He kissed her again, longer and deeper, enjoying the feeling of being alone with her, even if it was only for a stolen moment.

"Do you love me?" she asked suddenly when they paused to catch their breath. Surprised by the abruptness of her question, it took him a moment to form a coherent answer.

"I find it offensive that you have to ask."

"Stop being clever," she chided, "Do you or do you not?"

"Of course I do."

She paused, sucking a long breath into her lungs. _One night._

"Then marry me."

His immediate reaction was to laugh.

"In case you've forgotten princess, I was just about to do that when we were interrupted by my uncle!"

"No," she whispered, trying not to sound exasperated, "I mean _now_."

Dastan's heart missed a beat and it seemed that all the moisture drained out of his mouth. When he didn't reply, Tamina spoke again.

"You asked me why I could not be an officiator at my own marriage, and I have failed to think of any reason why I cannot."

"What's with this sudden change in heart?" Dastan managed though his head was reeling.

"If anything happened to you…"

"Don't talk like that," he interrupted harshly, "You sound as though you don't have any belief in me!"

"No, it's not like that," she hushed, her voice thickly laden with emotion. "Only the gods know what tomorrow will bring. But tonight we can make our own choices, and for me, that's you."

There was something very ominous about the whole thing, Dastan decided, as though she knew that some tragedy was about to befall him. He didn't like it one bit. On the other hand the though, finally being able to call her wife was a tantalising thought. Also, the hope that this sudden decision meant that she was willing to be his wife in every sense of the word was almost too much to bear. His mental deliberation went on for so long that Tamina was afraid he had fallen asleep.

"Dastan?"

"What do I have to do?" he asked quietly.

Even in the gloom, he could see her smile light up her face.

"We hold hands, like this."

They sat on their knees facing each other. She began to recite the ceremony from memory.

"I call upon the gods, so that they may come and be present to the joining of these two people. Marriage is the rite which is given to a man and woman who wish that their lives be paired with one another, so that they may stand as one for as long as the gods see fit that they remain in this world. According to the laws of the land, does anyone among the company know of any reason why this man and woman may not be joined?"

She paused for silence, and then giggled. He laughed too and the tension that he had been carrying melted away.

"Do you, Dastan, promise to love and care for this woman until the day that you pass into the next life?"

"I do."

It was the response that everyone knew. Even still, he was surprised that he hadn't somehow managed to mess it up.

"Do you, Tamina, promise to love and honour this man, until the day that you pass into the next life?"

She paused before answering, "I do."

"Now by the power of the gods, I decree that these two people are married. No longer are they two but one, and may every blessing from the gods rain down upon their heads."

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

"Is that it?" Dastan asked sheepishly, feeling slightly detached from everything, as though he was dreaming.

"No," she replied, and he could hear the smirk in her voice, "You have to kiss me first."

So he did. It started chaste, but as the kiss went on, Tamina's lips began to quicken, almost with a sense of urgency.

Too afraid to presume the next course of action, Dastan cleared his throat and as they broke the kiss.

"What now?" he asked, his heart hammering against his chest in anticipation.

Tamina gave a throaty chuckle that sent a shiver running through his body.

"I find it offensive that you have to ask," came her playful reply.

For the briefest of moments, the ominous feeling returned. But as she pulled him down onto the floor with her, his reservations were lost under the rush of desire.

* * *

As Dastan slept, Tamina felt the warmth of what they had done spread through her body like strong liquor. She breathed in his scent deeply, running her hands over his bare arms, feeling the shape of them and the scars of wounds past. In that moment, she was so blissfully happy that she felt she might burst. Yet she could not escape from the thoughts of tomorrow. She had it settled in her mind that she would leave under the cover of darkness. There would be no long and painful goodbyes, just the sweet memory of the night that they had shared together.

Dastan slept deeply, sedated by his earlier exertions, and so didn't notice the movements Tamina made as she exited the tent. Outside, Seso had fallen asleep at the fire, probably waiting on Dastan to relieve his watch, she realised. The heat of embarrassment crept into her face. Did he know what they had done? Was it obvious? She shook her head, trying to rid herself of her own stupidity. What did it matter now that she wouldn't see them again.

Noiselessly, she untied one of the horses and climbed into the saddle. Tears streaked down her face as she made her way up the mountain path, and it took all her strength not to look back.


	17. Chapter 16: Destiny

**Authors Notes:** Wow! I should complain no-one is reading more often! I got an amazing response to the last chapter and I want to thank each of you! I think I've gotten my muse back, so as long as I don't get weighed down by school, I should have a new chapter every 2 weeks or so.

Responses:

Starfish - Thank you so much for your review on the last couple of chapters. Especially your last one. It made me smile :)  
Wierdchik - Goll-ie -shucks, I've updated! :P  
xoxoktk - Thanks for the review! Great to know you're still reading!  
SilenceCat - They might. ;) Find out below!  
Max - You shouldn't have to wait too much longer for the end! A handful more chapters! Stay tuned...  
Sorree - Yay. And another reward for your patience is below :P  
ElaineDex - Glad to know you're still interested! One of the things a writer worries about is their readers loosing that, so it's great to know you're still into it!  
Naina - :( I know. Writing the last part of the last chapter broke my heart a little. Aww just sums it up perfectly!

Enjoy the next chapter!

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Destiny**

Through all the madness, the blood, the sweat, the tears, and all that damnable sand, something good had finally happened. Dastan kept his eyes closed, almost afraid to open them and discover that the previous night had been nothing but a wonderful and vivid dream. However, when he did finally open them, his heart ceased its rhythmic beating for a moment. Then he laughed at his own ridiculousness. She had probably gone outside to relieve herself, and her movements had woken him. He began to settle again, telling himself that in just a few moments she would be back beside him, her warm body next to his. _Warm…_

His trail of thought immediately moved and his heart began to hammer again. Surely if she had just left he would still be able to feel her warmth from her body? Thoroughly disorientated now, Dastan crawled from the tent and looked around. The fire had burnt to cinders and the sky was that particular colour of blue that meant the sun would shortly rise. Seso was asleep by the ashes, and with a pang of guilt he remembered that he had been supposed to be the one to relieve him of his watch. He shook the manservant awake.

"Have you seen Tamina?"

Seso smiled knowingly.

"I was under the impression she was with you."

Too anxious to be embarrassed, Dastan replied, "Not anymore."

A million possibilities began to race through his mind. Each with a more gruesome outcome than the last.

"What if she's been kidnapped?"

His hand flew to his belt and although he thought it impossible for his heart to sink lower he was proved wrong. The dagger was gone too.

"It's my fault. If I hadn't fallen asleep…"

Seso grabbed the prince by the shoulders with his powerful hands.  
"Persian, think. Could anyone have gotten her from the tent without your knowing?"

"No." He was fairly certain any forceful taking of her body would have woken him from even the deepest of sleeps.

"And she is not stupid. If she had gotten up in the night and seen my sleeping she would have woken me."

With a force that was equal to that of a punch, it finally dawned on him. A glance towards where they had tethered the horses only confirmed his fears.

"It would seem that the princess has left of her own desire," The African stated with an impossible calmness.

"What is all this noise?" Amar demanded, fixing his askew turban as he appeared from his tent, "Don't any of you understand the idea of a good night's sleep?"

"Tamina's gone," Dastan informed bitterly as he began packing his saddle bag.

"Hold on a moment! She promised me a reward! Bloody typical. You know I think that…"

"Shut up!" The prince yelled.

Amar narrowed his eyes, in a way that was surely meant to look threatening, but had an almost comedic effect.

"Boy, I would remember carefully who didn't hand you over to the Persian army if I were you. If you think that…"

Catching the look that Seso was giving him, the Sheik quickly stopped talking. Although the African was indebted to Amar, it didn't stop the latter being intimidated.

Seso cleared his throat. "Do you know where she may have gone?"

"She's gone to the temple at the top of the mountain. It's where she's been leading us all this time."

"Temple? What temple?" Amar chirruped, "I don't know about her but if the gods are on Nizams side, then I don't think a prayer is going to be much help. Never did me any good."

Dastan paused in momentary deliberation, then with a sigh he asked, "Do you know about the dagger of time?"

"Everyone knows that one. It's something to make the kids quiet down before bed right?"

"At the Oasis, after the attack, you asked me how I had known where the snakes had come from, yes?"

An excited gleam sparkled into the Sheik's eyes.  
"It's real? That's why Nizam is after you?"

The prince nodded.  
"And Tamina is taking it to the temple to return it to the gods, offering herself as a sacrifice."

"Tough break," Amar nodded sympathetically, "But it's better than letting Nizam get his greedy hands on it!"

"There has to be another way. I won't let her kill herself. You're welcome to come with me."

"Thank you for the kind offer Persian," was the sarcastic reply, "but I think Seso and myself will stay here, won't we?"

The African did not reply, but simply smiled and set about gathering his things also.

"Who's side are you on exactly?" Sheik Amar mumbled, realising his defeat, "You've gone soft you have. All I can say is there better be some payment for all our trouble, you mark my words!"

As Tamina and her horse ascended the steep path, she looked over her shoulder at the midmorning sun and wondered wistfully if Dastan was awake. By now he probably would have noticed her absence. What would he think? Would he know where she had gone? Feeling the tension in her body suddenly increase, the animal beneath her skittered nervously. She grabbed the reins tight and pulled to regain control. Slightly apprehensive now she kicked her heels and urged the horse into a quicker gait. If by some small chance he did know how to find her, she wanted to make sure the deed was done. It had taken all her strength to walk away from him once, and she wasn't sure that she would have the will to do it a second time.

When the temple finally came into view the sun was directly overhead. Part of her was anxious, while the other part was relieved to soon be in the company of likeminded priests. They would understand her motives.

As she trotted into the little settlement, the lack of activity alarmed her. Chickens clucked angrily from their coup, annoyed to still be caged at this time of the morning. There wasn't a person in sight.

"Hello?" she called out hesitantly, dismounting the horse. She didn't bother to tether it as she would no longer be in need of its services. She slapped a hand on its rump to encourage it to leave. It trotted a few paces forward, then began to graze on the patchy grass.

"Is there anyone here?"

When there was no reply, she put her hand instinctively to the hilt of the dagger. Although it was almost useless as a weapon, turning back several moments could give her a precious advantage against a foe.

Tamina pulled back a curtain from the entrance to one of the buildings that had been crudely formed into the side of the mountain. Her hand flew to her mouth. A dozen or so bodies lay littered around the small room. The pungent aroma of blood filled her nostrils and she forced her lips tightly closed against the waves of nausea. Some of them had their throats cut, while others lay prostrated in an eternal expression of agony, the same way she had seen men who had fallen victim to snake bites. She deduced that the priests had been killed at prayers, meaning that their deaths had been relatively recent and the perpetrator was probably still here. Not wanting to wait and find out, she immediately made her way to the cave where the dagger had been pulled from the stone all those years ago.

The familiar sound of the gently trickling waterfall greeted Tamina as she entered. There was a deluge of emotion as she looked around. She had been brought here many times as a child by her mother, and she could vividly remember dipping her feet in the cool water while she listened to the story of the great sandstorm that never was. She swallowed at the lump in her throat and moved towards the crevice in the rock, which glowed slightly as it invited her to her destiny.

"I wouldn't do that, Princess," growled a voice. Tamina gave a gasp of surprise as the speaker stepped noiselessly out of the shadows. He was dressed from head to foot in black, with impossibly pale skin and eyes of the most unsettling shade of blue she had ever seen. Her heart hammered loudly as she searched desperately for her voice.

"You killed them."

The stranger shrugged, and a fire of injustice began to burn away her fear.

"Those priests were unarmed!" she spat.

The piercing stare moved to her belt and a gruesome grin spread across his face, contorting the burned skin on the right side of his face.  
"Give it to me."

She closed her fist protectively around the dagger. No doubt he was working for Nizam, and she would have to do everything in her power to stop him from possessing it. Not wanting to draw attention, she slowly moved her thumb over the ruby and pressed.

The killer lurched forward, a strangled cry of 'no' catching in his throat. Then, almost as quickly as he had sprang forward, he stopped. For a moment, nothing happened, and then a triumphant smile graced his hideous face again. Frantically, Tamina pushed the hilt again, twice, three more times, only to have her heart sink as she accepted the bitter truth that the sand chamber was empty.

With her safety net wrenched from under her feet, she now began to feel truly afraid.

"Give it to me and I won't hurt you," he said, with a greedy glint in his eyes that only made her more anxious.

With her options fast depleting, she turned and ran.

She was a streak of white against the grey mountains as Dastan rode fiercely for the temple. His heart soared. Although he had been praying to arrive in time to save her, he had been almost certain she had too much of a head start. But then, as quickly as his mood had lifted, it fell right back down into the depths of his chest as he saw the black figure perusing her. After everything, she was still within his grasp, and he couldn't allow her to be yet another victim of Nizam's madness. He kicked his heels into the sides of his horse, summoning the last of its speed.

"Dastan!" Tamina screamed with both surprise and fear, as she saw him approaching fast. She had expected never to see him again, but couldn't have been more thankful to be proved wrong. The stony ground tore at her feet through the same thin beaded slippers that she had been wearing ever since their escape from Alamut, but she knew that she couldn't stop running. The villain's laboured breathing seemed impossibly close, but she dared not to look back for fear she would catch her foot on a stone.

_Just a little closer_…

Dastan was planning how he would launch his attack when suddenly the horse beneath him reared up. Caught off guard, the prince was thrown. Disorientated and winded, he scrambled to his knees, only to come face to face with the black asp which had spooked his horse. As it struck he dived sideward. It was a narrow miss. He jumped to his feet and drew his sword. The Hassansin flew at him. Dastan blocked and the two began to fight.

Seso and some of Amar's men approached from the right, but were halted by a row of snakes that sprang from the sand.

"Give it up, Prince!" hissed the serpent master.

"Never!"

Each blow was matched equally, and with Dastan's reinforcements held at bay, it seemed as though the pair would be locked in an eternal stalemate. However, soon his muscles began to ache, and he could feel the stiffness in his limbs slowing him down. Again, the side effects of the fever he had taken were rearing their ugly head.

Tamina watched the fight with tears in her eyes. Every time the stranger took a swipe at Dastan the tension of it made her want to scream. He was tiring, and she wasn't sure that she could bear to watch. If he was hurt on her behalf, she would never be able to forgive herself. Clasping the dagger tightly, she dashed back towards the temple. There would be no more fighting when the wretched thing was returned to the gods.

"Persian!" Seso called in distress, "Behind you!"

Half expecting to be facing another Hassansin, Dastan glanced around. But what he saw was worse. Tamina was climbing back up the path.

Caught off guard, his opponent swung his blade close, and although Dastan managed to block, the force of it knocked his blade from his hand. It clattered nosily to the ground. Dastan watched helplessly as the Hassansin reared back for the killing blow.

There was a flash of silver and the snake charmer dropped his own blade with a yell of agony. A bone handled dagger with the mark of the Ngbaka was imbedded in his arm. With a mad look of both fury and something close to fear, he made a dash after Tamina, cradling his wounded limb.

Knowing he wouldn't have time to stop them both, Dastan made a most difficult decision. As painful as it was, he had to put the needs of others before his own. He grabbed his blade and sprinted after the Hassansin. Grabbing him by his injured arm, the prince wheeled him around and put the blade to his throat.

"She must be stopped!" he screeched.

"I can't let you have that dagger. If that means losing Tamina, so be it," Dastan growled.

"Then you have killed us all! The dagger is only thing that can destroy your crazy Uncle!"

The ground seemed to shift under his feet as everything he though he knew changed in a moment. He let go of his arm.

"Tamina!" he yelled suddenly, "Stop!"

On an uneven, yet strangely equal plain now, the prince and Hassansin raced after the princess.

As she stood before the temple, the tears ceased to flow. This was her purpose, her destiny. She had been brought up for this singular purpose, should it be required of her, and now it most certainly was.

Suddenly, he was there.

"Tamina, don't do this!"

"I'm sorry Dastan," she replied with a weak smile.

"You don't understand!" he panted between breaths as he clambered down the rocks towards her as quickly as he could manage.

It was now or never. The more she allowed him to speak the more vulnerable to doubt she would become.

"I wish we could have been together."

Her same last words pierced him deeper than any blade.

"Stop!" he pleaded, wading through the water with an infuriating slowness, reaching out for her, "You can't, the dagger is the only thing that…"

But he was too late. Just as his outstretched fingers grazed her arm, Tamina slid the dagger into the crevice and the whole cave was swallowed up in a brilliant white light.


	18. Chapter 17:  An Unlikely Alliance

**Author's notes: **Sorry, I'm a horrible author for leaving you on such a cliffhanger and then disappearing off the face of the earth for a few weeks. Thank's to everyone who reviewed, I'm not going to reply to them as a) It's late and I'm tired. b) Most of them said something along the lines of "NOOOOOO HOW CAN YOU LEAVE IT THERE?1!1" and to that I reply:

"Because I can."

Hope this was worth the wait. Maybe have this thing wrapped up by chapter 20? It's a nice round number.

Oh, and I don't think this affects the T rating, but there is one incidence of very harsh language in this chapter. Consider yourself warned. I suppose it's not very bad in the broad scheme of things, but because I haven't sworn in this story at all yet, I thought I'd warn you.

Enjoy.

**_Woffles92_**

* * *

**Chapter 17 – An Unlikely Alliance**

"_Tamina…"_

The whisper was all around her. When she opened her eyes she could see nothing but white. However, the bright light did not hurt her eyes. Surely this was heaven?

"Yes, I'm here," she replied willingly, looking around to see where the voice was coming from. She saw nothing but the intense whiteness.

"_Why have you returned the dagger to us?"_

The question puzzled the princess, as surely the gods saw everything?

"You must know? The dagger was in danger, and I have come in the place of the life you once spared to return it."

"_We cannot accept your offering."_

It took a moment for her to grasp what had been said. Confusion riddled her mind.

"I don't understand," she called out, "I am a guardian, and it is my duty to return the dagger to you when it's safety is in jeopardy. What is it that you cannot accept?"

"_Princess of Alamut, you do not come to us alone with your offering."_

"Please," she begged, "Speak plainly, I still don't understand!"

"_Sweet daughter, a life grows within you and we cannot separate you from one another."_

The realization spread through her like a gentle breeze.

"But it was only…"

"_Once?" _the voice interrupted with an almost playful tone, "_That's all it takes."_

Although her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, her lips drew back into a joyous grin. Instinctively, she drew her hand lightly over her slim stomach. Pausing, she addressed the voice again.

"But what about my destiny?"

"_It is not your time. This was not the path you were meant to follow. Our blade is one of the few things that can stop the plague that has been spreading over this land."_

"You mean Nizam. But, didn't you restore him to life?"

"_It was not us, but our brothers and sisters who fell from grace into darkness and evil. There is much disturbance in the balance of all things. There are many innocent souls who are trapped between your world and ours. You must help them, Tamina."_

"What must I do?"

"_Take the dagger back to Alamut. A wound with this blade will be enough to break the ritual that brought Nizam back from where he should be. This, Princess, is your destiny."_

"But what if I fail?" she asked self-consciously.

"_The evil that you will face clouds the path in front of you. We cannot see what is to come should you not succeed."_

"But it wouldn't be good," she remarked, partly to herself. Though there was no face, or even being attached to the voice, Tamina looked up when she spoke.

"May I have your blessings, for the strength and courage I will need?"

"_Child, you already have those two qualities in abundance. You keep our laws and live a life that is pleasing to us. For this you always have our blessings, whether you ask for them or not."_

Only when she was with Dastan had she felt so much love flowing through her body before. She wanted to laugh for the sheer joy of it. The things that should be troubling her did not, and she did not feel afraid for the road she now had to travel. There was no doubt that this was heaven.

"_You must go now Tamina. Although we shall not meet like this again until you come to us at the end of your life, know that we are always with you."_

Her reply was sincere.

"Thank you."

Then, the white light began to fade to black and her eyes grew impossibly heavy. As she drifted into something akin to sleep, she knew that when she opened her eyes again, she would be back in Persia.

* * *

It was impossible to tell how long he had been unconscious, but as soon as his eyes opened, his first thought was of her. He leapt from the ground, ignoring all the aches that he had received from being flung against the rock. Tamina was motionless, her face blank and pale, her hair damp from the water that trickled down the rock beside her.

His mouth felt dry and beneath his ribs he could feel every individual fibre of his heart as it broke into countless pieces. Delicately, he lifted her body in his arms and embraced her. The Persian prince had never been one for tears, but even though his eyes were dry, painful sobs racked his body as he held her. Memories of her body falling through the fog in the sand glass chamber flooded back and did nothing except add to the crushing weight of sorrow that was bearing down on him.

He was cursed; It was the only possible explanation. Why else would she have had to sacrifice herself in both the lives they had led? If the dagger hadn't been destroyed then he would have taken it, and reversed time back to before the Persians had ever invaded Alamut. It would have been better that way.

Suddenly, she groaned, and Dastan got such a shock that he almost dropped her.

"Tamina?" he asked in disbelief, searching her face for signs of life. Was he, in his grief, imagining things? His next movement was to check the her neck for the tell-tale throb of life. His heart skipped a merry dance in his chest when he found a pulse there. Was he going mad, or had she been granted some kind of reprieve?

The eyes beneath her closed lids began to move from side to side and he waited with baited breath as she came round. When at last she did open her eyes, Dastan let out a shuddering breath.

"Praise the gods," he said, embracing her as tight as he could without injuring her.

"Dastan," she breathed out in a sigh of relief.

He released her again and looked into those eyes which, only moments ago, he believed he'd never see again.

"How is this possible? You made the sacrifice, returned the dagger! You should be dead!"

"They refused me," she replied.

"What? Why?"

Tamina gave a coy smile.

"You know Dastan, if you keep on asking questions I'm going to start doubting whether or not you're actually glad to see me."

He laughed, letting the waves of blissful joy wash over him.

"Don't tease me like that. I doubt that there is a happier man in the world right now. I'm just curious. Did they speak to you? Did they give you a reason for the refusal?"

A nervous flutter passed through her stomach as she thought about their child. In the place where she had spoken with the gods the news had been joyous and welcome. But now, it was a source of anxiety. If she failed she would be denying the child a chance of life, or worse, condemning it to one where Nizam was in power. And there was the matter of Dastan to consider. She could hardly remember her own father since he had died when she had been very young, and didn't want their child to grow up not knowing their father. If she told him, there was the chance that he would keep himself out of harm's way, but she feared that the more likely outcome was that he would instead be recklessly protective of her and the unborn, endangering himself even more.

"They told me my destiny was to stop Nizam."  
It was only a half-truth but she had made a judgement call not to burden him with the news just yet.

"You have no idea how happy I am you're alright," he gushed, before kissing her fiercely.

Watching their passionate exchange, Zolm had to force down the bile that was creeping up into his throat. It wasn't that he was so inhuman as to abhor all gestures of affection, but rather the fiery pit of jealousy that was bubbling just under his surface, threatening to erupt at any given moment. They had been reunited after what had _almost_ been certain death, and seeing their joy left him crippled. Nasreen was lost to him, he knew that, but at least now there was one consolation. The dagger. Tamina had been sent back to stop Nizam, and that meant the dagger was still in her possession.

For a moment, he considered whether or not it would be to his advantage to do away with the Persian and his princess here and now, so that both the dagger and the glory of killing Nizam was his. But the throbbing in his injured arm reminded him of his own fallibility. However hard it was for him, he had to admit that it might be in his interest to seek assistance in the great matter.

"What happened the dagger?" Dastan asked when he and Tamina parted. She slipped off the rock and into the pool, dipping her arm into the clear water. After a few moments she withdrew, her hand clasped around the hilt of the dagger.

"Here."

Tamina handed it to him. But, as she turned around to face the entrance to the cave, she spotted her assailant and the shock drew a strangled cry from her lips.  
"Dastan!" she yelled, grabbing his arm.

"It's alright," the prince said reassuringly, "He's… on our side, I suppose."

"What?" she demanded in outrage.

"He's not working for Nizam, quite the opposite."

"He tried to kill me!"

"He knew you were trying to return the dagger, and he was trying to stop you because the dagger is the only thing we know that can kill Nizam."

She gave a patronising laugh, "And you believe him?

Dastan met the Hassansin's eye. All logic told him not to trust the serpent master, yet there was something that he couldn't quite put his finger on that said he could be trusted.

"I do," he replied assuredly.

* * *

Without the priests to take care of them the hens would have starved or been carried off by mountain lions, so they ate well that night.

Everyone was on edge, probably because of the rather unlikely addition to their group. The Hassansin had barely uttered more than a few words, and had shocked them all when earlier in the day he had put a knife in the fire they had made, waited until it glowed hot, and then seared the wound on his arm closed without so much as a flinch. The conversation over dinner was sparse and the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"So, do you have a name?" Amar eventually asked. Everyone looked up, eager to know the answer themselves but none brave enough to ask it.

The serpent charmer shifted his unnerving eyes into a glare in the Sheik's direction.

"Yes."

There was an anxious pause as everyone waited to see if he would continue or not. When he wasn't forthcoming, he pressed again.

"So are you going to share? If we're going to work together it's better that we know something about each other."

Despite his clumsy and sometimes impertinent mannerisms, Amar was making a lot of sense. Dastan had always spent the night before a battle with his soldiers, talking, laughing, making sure none of them took too much wine. It created a bond that was almost tangible when it came to the fight.

"Who say's we're working together," he hissed.

Tamina interjected.  
"I'm sure you don't need our help, but personally I think that the chance of succeeding in this increases with numbers."  
No-one voiced it, but they were all silently applauding the way she was handling the situation. She had read his character like a book.

After a long moment, he replied.

"Zolm."

She smiled, and then concentrated on forming her next question. It needed to be worded correctly, so as to make sure that her diplomacy didn't end up sounding like she was patronising him.

"You've been in Alamut all this time. When the gods spoke to me they mentioned something about souls being trapped between this world and the next. Do you know anything about this?"

Zolm's face grew dark. Just as they had thought they could begin to relax, the tension became tangible again.

"He gets his power from people. He… takes their life, or soul. But they don't die. They just sit there… staring into nothingness."

"That's horrible…" Tamina breathed out with a bitter taste in her mouth. Her people were being turned, one at a time, into living corpses.

"Is that why you are here?" Seso spoke suddenly, "Did he do this terrible thing to someone you knew?"

A visible nerve had been struck. They all held their breath, watching the Hassansin nervously, like he was one of those concoctions from the Far East that blew apart when exposed to fire.

"Yes."

"I bet it was a woman," Amar cried ungainly through a mouthful of chicken.

"It's none of your damn business," Zolm roared, jumping to his feet and unsheathing his sword in one violent movement. Dastan was up just as quick, weapon drawn. They stared each other down.

"I'll take that as a yes," the Sheik muttered. Seso glared at his master.

Dastan was the first to speak.

"Sit down, Zolm."

"You first, _Prince_," the Hassansin replied with a menacing glint in his eyes as he gave a mock bow.

"Will both of you, _please_, sit," Tamina shouted, "You're behaving like children."

Slowly, both men returned their weapons to the place at their sides, and sat down.

"I'm sorry," she continued as gently as she could, "You must have loved her."

Zolm snorted a laugh.  
"I fucked her if that's what you mean."

Tamina recoiled, wrinkling her nose at his crude words.  
"No, that's _not_ what I meant."

He shrugged his shoulders.  
"Suit yourself."

For a while, no-one spoke.

"I think it's time we got some rest. It's been a long day for everyone," Dastan reasoned.

"I will take the first watch," the Sheik's servant offered.

"No need," Zolm retorted smugly, "Sleep is for the weak. I will keep watch while I am meditating."

"You can do both?" Dastan asked impertinently.

A serpent slipped from his sleeve and settled on the ground beside him.  
"Yes, we can."

"Here!" Amar said pointing an accusing finger at the Hassansin, "How do we know you aren't going to murder us all in our sleep? How can we trust you?"

"You do not need to be asleep for me to kill you," Zolm retorted calmly, "and the fact that you are still alive right now is proof enough that you can trust me."

The rest of the party exchanged looks.

"You may take my swords if it makes you feel safer," he continued with an air of impatience.

Dastan gave a short laugh. He put his arm around Tamina and they began to make their way to the priests' rooms that had been carved into the mountain. He called back over his shoulder.  
"I don't think disarming you, Zolm, would make you any less of a threat."

"What a clever Prince," hissed the snake master as he smiled sadistically.


	19. Chapter 18: Return To Alamut

**Author's notes: **New chapter. Huzzah.

Not much to say really except enjoy, and thank you again for your support everyone who's reading and reviewing!

_Woffles92_

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Return to Alamu**t

No matter how hard he tried, or how tired he felt, Dastan just could not fall asleep. His mind was buzzing with the events and emotions that had been crammed into one day. Although he had been frantic with worry as he had sped up the mountain path after Tamina, he had still time to think about her motives. A worm of doubt had wriggled into his mind and taken root with the intent to reside there for the foreseeable future. Why had Tamina done what she had the previous night? Was she really so desperately in love with him that she couldn't bear to think of sacrificing herself without spending a night with him, or, had it been some sort of rouge to put him at ease so she could make her escape? Doubt told him it was the latter, even though the more rational part of his brain was telling him not to be so ridiculous.

Suddenly, a heavy sigh escaped Tamina's lips, and Dastan realised that he mustn't be the only one whose troubles were keeping sleep at bay.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She jumped a little, clearly not expecting him to still be awake either. He pulled his arms tighter around her, as they huddled close trying to make both of their bodies fit onto the simple mattress made for one.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. What's bothering you?"  
Perhaps her problems would make him forget his own.

"That… _thing_ out there, I don't trust him. How do we know he's not right at this moment killing Seso, Amar and the rest of the men?"

"We don't, although, I think our friend the Sheik wouldn't go down quietly, do you?

She managed a chuckle, and her breath tickled the skin on his arm.

"True, but… I just can't get it out of my head that he's going to turn on us. Every time I close my eyes I see that horrible face looming at me."

"It's probably got something to do with the last time we met him."  
It took her a moment to realise that he was referring to the alternate timeline. Dastan continued.  
"He was working for Nizam then and he very nearly did kill me. But… there's something different about him now. Something has changed."

Tamina replied instantly, "The woman."

He grunted in agreement. Both fell silent again and the prince's troubles made an unwelcome return. After a few more moments he decided that it might put him at ease to share. One way or another, he would know the truth and his mind would be put at rest.

"Tamina?"

She groaned a little, indicating she was still awake, but not enough to form distinguishable sounds.

"Last night, was that… what you really wanted? Or was it just meant as a distraction?"

His words made her sit up, fully awake.  
"What? Where did this come from?"

Her tone of voice made him immediately regret saying anything at all.  
"Forget it. I'm just rambling."

"No, you've got my attention now so you might as well go ahead and tell me what has put such a ridiculous idea into your head!"

"Fine. I want to know if last night was just some sort of plan of yours to distract me, or… tire me out so you could sneak off here?"

"No! Dastan, how could you think me capable of such cruelty? I thought I was going to _die_ today and I wanted to spend my last night on earth with the man I loved! Would you have done anything differently?"

He felt guilty now, for ever having conceived such thoughts. To answer her last question; no, he probably wouldn't have done anything different. Perhaps he wouldn't have bothered with the marriage portion of their evening, but that was because he and Tamina placed different importance in their spiritual wellbeing. However, after recent events, he was starting to consider the benefits of having the gods on your side.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.  
She was still angry at him, he could tell. Perhaps disappointed, and maybe that was worse.

Tamina was hurt to think that he could doubt her sincerity in such a way. However, she couldn't bring herself to continue the argument. They had been through enough today, and he had said he was sorry. To carry on would be about as fruitful as flogging a dead horse.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. I'm an idiot for saying anything at all. I just suppose I find it hard to believe that the princess of Alamut, whose beauty and leadership expertise are known far beyond the reaches of her own kingdom, could love some grubby thing the Persian King scraped off the street."

"Stop it! You're making me feel terrible for shouting at you!" Tamina gushed. Her heart was swelling so much that she was sure her ribs would break and it would burst from her chest at any moment.

"Good," he replied cheekily, "It worked then."

Tamina gave a mock gasp and thumped him for being so wicked.  
"If it's any consolation, I can't believe I fell in love with the scruffy, uncouth, adopted Prince of Persia either!"

"I guess I should have seen that one coming."

They both laughed, and Tamina planted a lingering kiss on his lips. Dastan wrapped his strong arms even tighter around her, holding her as close as he could without injury. After a while, hands began to wander. Sensing where this was going, Tamina broke the kiss.

"Now, now," she teased, "I wouldn't want to _tire_ you out."

He gave a deep laugh that caught in the back of his throat and sent a shiver of pleasure running down her spine.  
"I don't think you could if you tried," he challenged.

"We'll just have to see about that," she replied mischievously, before claiming his mouth for her own.

* * *

Zolm was still sitting in the exact same spot when they awoke the next morning. They had been expecting some drama during the night, perhaps a murder, or at the very least an attempt to seize the dagger. There are few things in this world that can make you trust an Hassansin, but one of them is passing a night unharmed in their presence. They broke their fast with the remaining chicken and some eggs. Very little was said, as the tension in the mismatched group was still running high. Eventually, Dastan wiped the grease from his fingers, picked up a stick, and began to draw a simple plan of Alamut in the dirt.

"I'm going to need to know everything about the defence that Nizam has placed around the city, Zolm. How difficult will it be to get it?"

"There should be no problem slipping in with the morning trade. It is only leaving the city that is problematic."

"Alright, we won't need to worry about that. Next we need to find a way into the palace prison so I can release my father and brothers before…"

The Hassansin interrupted.  
"Releasing your brothers will not be a problem either. The prison is only minimally guarded. Most of the bodies in those cells are one of Nizam's lifeless creations. The only thing Nizam fears is the dagger, and he is expecting me to retrieve it. We will have the element of surprise."

"And what about my father? Is he more heavily guarded then?"

Zolm avoided meeting the prince's eye.  
"Your father is yet another among those whom Nizam has…_affected_."

The colour drained from Dastan's face. Tamina reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away and stood abruptly to his feet. He stormed off. She made to follow but Seso stopped her.

"Give him a few moments," the African advised in a deep, soothing voice. Reluctantly she sat back down.

Out of earshot, back in the cave-room where he and Tamina had spent the night, Dastan let out an anguished cry and beat his fist against the wall. Why were events doomed to repeat themselves? He should have realised before now that Nizam would have probably killed his father. It was his life's ambition ever since the incident with the mountain lion. But he hadn't killed him, not outright. He was languishing between worlds, a breathing corpse. Death would at least have brought peace. Instead, he was enduring hell trapped in a twisted purgatory.

He heard a noise behind him and sighed. He turned to tell Tamina to give him some space. However, it was not the princess who he saw. Instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of his sword when he saw the Hassansin's ominous shadow in the opening.

They stared at each other wearily for several moments. It was the snake charmer who spoke first.

"It seems, Persian, that we have something in common."

Irritated by the intrusion on his grief, Dastan raised a haughty eyebrow.

"And what, exactly, would that be?"

"The debt you now have with your Uncle is a personal one."

Dastan looked away, unwilling to show the pain that was hiding behind his eyes. When the silence forced him to look back, he saw the same suffering mirrored in the icy eyes across from him.

"Tomorrow, we shall share a toast over Nizam's dead body, for the justice that will be done."  
Much to the Prince's surprise, Zolm's next move was to offer out his hand.  
"To vengeance?"

He took a moment to consider, then, accepted. Despite their differences, both men now knew they were on equal footing with the other. To his surprise, this unlikely treaty brought him some small measure of comfort.

"To vengeance," he replied.

* * *

How long he had been asleep was impossible to tell, but when Garsiv awoke, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He shook his brother awake urgently.

"Tus! Wake up!"

"Where is father?" Tus demanded the moment he was fully conscious.

"Look around," Garsiv replied coarsely, "Probably the same place that every other one of Nizams victims is."

He gestured around the now deserted prison cells. The absence of so many bodies gave the room a very eerie quality. They looked at each other in dismay. How could they have slept through something like that?

Just then, there was a commotion at the entrance. Was this the guards returning for them? Had Nizam finally decided to turn them into corpses along with the others? They held their breath with dread.

The figure bounded into the room, sword brandished, and then stopped dead, just as confused as them by the empty room.

"Dastan!" the Persian princes chorused with glee. The youngest managed a brief smile as he ran towards them, fumbling with the keys that he had taken from the solitary guard.

"What are you doing here?" Tus hissed as Dastan tried each key in turn, trying to find the right one to open the lock.  
"You should be on the other side of the world by now!"

The adopted son of Sharaman smirked.  
"And leave all the fun to you two?"

"I'm serious Dastan," he continued, reaching a hand through the bars and placing it on his brothers shoulder, "You've put yourself in great peril by returning! And what of the Princess, is she safe?"

"When have you ever known me to run from a fight? And yes, Tamina is safe."

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Garsiv was first out, eager to stretch his limbs that ached from confinement.  
"So what's the plan?" was his eager question.

"We'll take the palace. It's not very well guarded."

"We're not going to be able to take the palace with just the three of us, no matter how sparsely guarded it is!" Tus protested.

"We're not alone. I've picked up a few helpers along the way; a bandit Sheik and his bodyguard and some Hassansins."

Garsiv gave a booming laugh.  
"Hassansins? Now I know you're mocking us little brother. Those fiends have been disbanded for years."

"We were deceived," Dastan said with a shake of his head, "They are still a brotherhood, and Nizam has been using them for his lackeys. Fortunately for us, our beloved Uncle has managed to considerably vex their leader, and now they're helping us."

Both of the brothers looked bewildered at the onslaught of new information.

"Come," Dastan urged, "You won't believe a word of it, but I'll explain everything on the way."

They left the prison quickly, and made an important stop at a blacksmiths who they knew could be trusted. Even though they were being discrete, there was a building atmosphere. It was as though the oppressed citizens could sense that something was about to happen. They waited at one of the lesser known entrances to the palace for Zolm. He was rounding up his brothers for the impending fight, and would admit them to the palace when all was settled for the revolt.

Although Dastan had tried everything to dissuade her, Tamina was among the ranks. She would not be parted from the dagger, and they were useless without it. They waited for what seemed like hours before the door was finally opened by a flustered servant.

He materialised from behind a pillar, as the party stood, looking out of place in one of the servants corridors.

"My brothers are in place. We will make our way to the throne room. Nizam is in there with some of his counsellors as we speak. The route is clear except for two guards at the door."

The anticipation was tangible as they made their way quickly through the almost deserted palace. Occasionally they would meet a servant, who would duck quickly out of their way, hope in their eyes as they recognised the face of their princess and the Persian princes. When they came upon the great wooden doors, it took but a moment to overcome the soldiers there. There was an almighty crash as the doors swung back on themselves. The group stumbled into the room, weapons drawn.

Nizam looked up as they entered. To their confusion, he remained seated as he casually glanced at each of their faces, with a look of amusement playing on his lips.

"Ah, Dastan," he said, "I'm glad you're here. I never got a chance to apologise for interrupting your wedding."

Dastan shot Zolm a confused look, and found no comfort when the serpent master returned his gaze with an equally bemused look. They were supposed to have the element of surprise in their favour. But Nizam was failing to look in the least bit startled by their arrival.

"Now!" the Hassansin shouted.

Figures in black seemed to melt out of the very walls. Some appeared through the windows, while others climbed over the balcony. Nizam was surrounded now, yet there wasn't even a flicker of fear registering on his face.

"It's over Nizam!" Dastan shouted. He tried to sound authoritative, but his Uncles blasé nature had thrown him somewhat.  
"You're outnumbered. We know what you are, and we have the dagger to stop you."

"You have your friends, Nephew, but I have mine."

He clapped his hands together as casually as if he was ordering the servants to bring more wine. From the doors on either side of him, figures started to tramp in. They were male and female, of all ages and sizes. Most were almost skeletal, their parchment skin clinging to their bones. Their movements were awkward, and jerky, and they stared at the floor, weapons swinging clumsily from their hands. Tus made a noise in the back of his throat, and it didn't take Dastan long to realise why. King Sharaman was among the number. With a sickening sensation, he realised that Nizam had some supernatural control over the bodies he had sucked the life from. Zolm's knees threatened to buckle when he caught sight of Nasreen's body in the crowd. He balled his free hand into a fist as he found down the anger that was threatening to overcome him.

"Didn't you think I'd have my spies, Dastan? I knew the moment you had entered the city. Now," he commanded, the amusement having suddenly left his voice. His dark eyes stared at them from across the room.  
"Bring me that dagger!"

Their heads rose slowly in one unnatural, uniform movement, and dead eyes fixed themselves on Tamina. She screamed.


	20. Chapter 19: A Demon's Fate

**Author's notes:** This chapter was so hard to write, not helped by my heavy work load with Uni, so apologies for the wait.

Ever tried to write a battle scene? They look cool in movies but they're a bitch to write!

Also, this is the penultimate chapter so only one more and I'm done. My first chapter was, believe it or not, posted on 26th December last year. Wouldn't it round things off wonderfully if I could finish it on the exact same date one year later? I make no promises, but it will be something for me to work towards. Maybe then I'll be able to settle into some exam revision. They're in January. Urgh.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Not going to do replies for this one. Might for the next chapter depending on when I finish and post.

Enjoy xx

**_Woffles92_**

* * *

**Chapter 19 – A Demon's Fate**

"Protect the dagger!" Dastan yelled. They closed ranks around Tamina as the unearthly creatures advanced.

"What do we do?" Garsiv hissed.

"Well, we can't kill them, we can't tell if the people are still in those bodies or not!" Tus interjected

"Decisions, decisions," taunted Nizam from his position of safety.

Zolm was trembling with suppressed rage as Nasreen's body lurched awkwardly towards Tamina. Then, she stopped and raised lifeless eyes in his direction. His heart guttered as he wondered if by some miracle she was somewhere underneath the curse, fighting to come out. But as she began to move in his direction, he knew his hope had been misplaced. The Hassansin looked up quickly to see Nizam giving him a smug grin.

"I saw that this one was of particular interest to you when I took her life. No punishment is too cruel for those who betray me Hassansin!" he spat, "Will you defend yourself and risk injuring her? Even you can't be so heartless as to hurt an _innocent_ woman."

His words burned into the serpent masters ears. There had been a time, long ago, when he wouldn't have thought twice about cutting her down. However recent events had subjected his icy heart to a partial thaw. He should have known that something like this would happen. Feelings made you weak and now he would pay the price.

She lurched towards him, swinging the blade in her limp hand with clumsy swipes. He blocked her blow easily. That wouldn't be the problem. Could her body outlast his? It would take only one mistake from him for her erratic swipes could deal him a serious injury. And what if she injured herself?

In the centre of the room Dastan was looking at the faces as they made their way towards him. It felt like something out of a nightmare. In the crowd he spotted a girl that couldn't have been more than six years old. And then, to his horror, he saw his father.

"We can't hurt them," he said decisively. Even if the people who had once owned these bodies were long gone, he still couldn't take that risk.

There was a clash of steel as an Hassansin and one of the advancing bodies made contact. Dastan leapt forward as the warrior made to strike. He stopped the blade with his own.

"We _can't_ hurt them," he repeated.

"I don't answer to you, _Prince_," replied the Hassansin shrugging him off.

Dastan wheeled, blocked an aimlessly swinging blade, and turned in Zolm's direction.

"Zolm!" he cried over the noise of metal on metal, "Your men can't hurt these people!"

But the serpent master wasn't listening. He was locked in his own personal battle with the girl, who looked to be just shy of adulthood. The look in Zolm's eyes betrayed what she meant to him. What Nizam was doing was twisted beyond all comprehension. Looking around he could see that the formation around Tamina was beginning to break up as the mismatched band tried to defend themselves from Nizam's advancing militia.

He looked around trying to take in everything at once. Seso and Amar were trying to fend off a group of about 3 of the corpses. His brothers were also deep in battle on either side of Tamina who looked frightened, yet determined to protect the dagger at whatever cost. He began to formulate a plan. If he and his brothers surrounded Tamina, perhaps they could move slowly towards the front of the room and get close enough to use it against Nizam. Just then a searing pain erupted from his calf. Swinging around he saw the child had managed to come up on him unnoticed, and her blade had caught his leg. He looked up desperately for help when, to his horror, he saw an Hassansin stab his father's lurching body. There was too much going wrong. In a moment of panic, he cried out.

"Tamina! Give me the dagger!"

She deliberated for a moment, and then, trusting his instinct, threw. The prince caught the blade and pressed down on the hilt, hoping that she had filled the blade for just such an occasion. She had.

The people around him began moving in reverse. To his relief he saw the Hassansin's blade withdraw from his father's chest. There was relief as the wound the girl had dealt him vanished. When the jolt came that signalled his return into regular time, he sprang forward out of the girl's swinging blade. Next he dodged through the fighting just in time to block the black warrior's blade from piercing his father.

"Either you're with us or against us," Dastan hissed dangerously. The Hassansin grunted in reply, but made no more moves with intent to cause injury.

Returning to his original plan of guarding Tamina he twisted around. He spotted her just in time to see Garsiv, reeling from a particularly strong blow, crashing into her. The momentum sent her sprawling to the ground, knocking the wind from her chest and the dagger from her hand. His heart leapt up into the back of his throat as the blade vanished from view.

Zolm's concentration was broken by the flash of gold and silver near his feet as the dagger slid towards him. He dove down to retrieve it. His hand found the blade and he clasped it tightly around the hilt. Looking up, the first person he saw was the Sheik's manservant.

"Hassansin!" Seso yelled holding a hand out to receive. He understood. The throwing skills of the African were second to none. There was a deep wound in his arm to attest to that. This would be their only chance. He leapt to his feet and threw the blade in his direction. It flew through the air, spinning as it went, into Seso's waiting hand.

Zolm turned to re-orientate himself into the battle. She was too close for him to do anything. At the last moment he realised he had seen this scene before. The blade wielded in Nasreen's hands pierced him deep through the abdomen.

Seso threw. Nizam could see it coming and tried to dodge. It was coming too fast for him to completely avoid it. He raised his arm in an attempt to deflect the blow.

Zolm staggered for a moment, then reached out a hand and touched her unresponsive face. He wanted to say something to her, but nothing would come. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Oddly, there was no pain. Knowing the damage done was irreparable; he gritted his teeth and pulled the weapon out. Blood flowed freely from the hole and he knew it wouldn't be long before death's cold fingers would drag him away. He looked up at Nizam, hoping to see his wish for vengeance fulfilled.

The blade caught the Persian, but it was impossible to tell if it had pierced flesh or merely glanced of his clothing. At that moment, the corpse army stopped. Everyone looked up expectantly. In a panicked moment, Nizam ripped his sleeve to see the damage. He let out a triumphant laugh, and hope for those who had come to bring him down seemed to flicker and die. Bending down, he retrieved the sacred blade and brandished it in the direction of Dastan and the others.

"Nothing but a scratch!" he boomed looking around at their fallen faces. "Finish them!"

But his perverse troops remained motionless. Suddenly, and almost indiscernibly at first, the cut on his arm began to weep. But it wasn't blood that trickled from the wound, it was sand. Nizam dropped the dagger and it clattered to the floor. He used his now free hand to staunch the flow. For an instant it seemed to work, and then the sand seeped through his fingers. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he found he couldn't. His chest heaved a few times, followed by retching until sand billowed out of his mouth with every cough. Next, sand tears spilled from his wide and terrified eyes. Nizam stumbled forward. His skin began to shrink to the shape of his bones. Wounds began appearing on his hands, his face, all bringing forth more sand.

It was then that Zolm's vision blurred. He didn't mind so much. He had seen all he had needed to see. Nizam had only moments left now. Maybe he would see him in hell. Maybe he would see Nasreen. The thought was amusing to him, and he allowed himself to smile. Contented, he finally gave in to the overpowering urge to close his eyes and sleep.

A sudden wind began to whip up, sending sand flying all over the room. Tamina found Dastan and grabbed onto him as the wind became violent. The roar was deafening and vision became impossible. With a bang, they were flung to the floor.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the wind was gone. Slowly everyone began to stir. Opening their eyes, they saw a layer of sand covering everything in the room. Nizam was nowhere to be seen. There was a moment of serene calm. Dastan and Tamina exchanged a look of confusion.

A scream pierced the silence.

It came from an adolescent who was cradling a body in night black robes. She had been one of the ones under Nizam's control. How she was alive, when all of the others were strewn motionless across the sandy floor, was beyond him. Slowly, it dawned on them that the still body, lying in a pool of blood that seemed impossibly big, belonged to Zolm. She was shaking his body, as if trying to rouse him from sleep. But nothing could wake the Hassansin now. Slowly, Dastan approached her.

The girl snapped her head up as she sensed the Prince's approach. With a snarl she picked up the blood soaked blade and waved it dangerously in his direction.

"Don't come near me!" she screeched, her eyes wild and feral looking. Dastan held up both hands, gesturing that he meant her no harm. However, this seemed to do nothing to douse her mood. She looked quickly around, then, with a sudden burst of speed, she ran towards the door and disappeared from sight.

He turned to look at Tamina, who to his surprise was consoling the little girl who was crying for her mother. So there were two who had recovered. What made them different? Then, his heart stopped as he saw Tus and Garsiv helping up an older man from the floor.

By the gods, could it be true?

It took him a stunned moment to process that his father was actually still alive. Then, he ran to the Persian King, and along with his two brothers, embraced him.

"How is this possible?" he blurted in disbelief touching his father's face, his arms, just to make sure that he wasn't imagining it.

"You fed me," the king said in a voice hoarse from disuse, addressing the two older princes, "Even though you weren't sure if I was still there or not you forced food into me. You kept me alive."

"There was a woman; she cared for the child and the older girl. That must be why they have also survived," Tus exclaimed.

Having calmed the girl, Tamina approached from behind, her eyes glistening with happiness. Seeing her in the corner of his eye, he turned from his father and went to her. He scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, the feeling of sheer joy bursting from every part of him. There wasn't a time that he remembered being happier.

He set her down and they shared an eager kiss. They were safe, they had won. Breaking apart, the first thing he saw was the other warriors in black encircling their fallen leader. His stomach gave a lurch as he was reminded of the bittersweet taste of their victory. Zolm's eyes were closed and his normally harsh, controlled face was almost peaceful.

Tamina placed her hand in his and squeezed.

"It'll be okay," she reassured.

Nizam was gone, his father and brothers were alive, and Tamina was unharmed. They would mourn the one's they had lost, but yes, everything would be alright.

* * *

When she had told him, he had been furious.

The thought of her endangering not only herself but their unborn child made his blood boil. Then, he had to sit down. He had never really thought about having children, not in the last few weeks anyway. Perhaps he had in the days leading up to their almost wedding ceremony, but it was hard to remember anything from before the last few weeks. He decided that he probably did want them, but hadn't imagined they would have come along quite so soon in their relationship.

"What else did you think would happen when we spend nights together?" she had reminded him playfully.

It was at that point he thanked that he wasn't a frequenter of the whore houses like Garsiv. Goodness knows how many urchins were running around Nisaf with his blood, if it only had taken once for him and Tamina to produce progeny.

Although they had given themselves to each other body and soul, in the eyes of society they hadn't been 'properly' married yet, with a ceremony and by a priest. So when Dastan climbed over her balcony that night, he knew he was risking scandal. However, in the unlikely event that he should be discovered, he thought that the unusualness of their circumstance would be enough to buy him a pardon.

Tamina was fast asleep, enjoying her first night in a comfortable bed. Rest wouldn't come quite so easily for the prince. He lay awake, letting his mind wander through the most surreal few weeks of his life. Looking down at her face, he tucked some stray hair behind her ear then found his eyes wander down to her stomach. With a small smile he placed a hand gently on it and marvelled. A child, _their_ child, was beginning inside her.

It was then that he heard the noise. He sat upright and instinctively reached for his sword. The abrupt nature of his movements woke her.

"What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.

"Stay there," he hissed, walking towards the ornate dressing screen that was the only potential place for someone to conceal themselves behind. He approached noiselessly, and with one swift movement, pulled it down. There was nothing there.

Dastan spun around as he heard Tamina's sharp intake of breath. Leaning over his wife with a knife at her throat was the girl from earlier. Her hands were still coated in the dried blood of the Hassansin. The look in her amber eyes was rabid.

"I want him back," she snarled.


	21. Chapter 20: The Greatest Adventure

**Author's notes: **Well here we are, the last chapter! I realised that I was going to be without internet on 26th December, and seeing as I have the last chapter written, there is no point in me withholding it from you. It's been one heck of a year and I hope that you have enjoyed the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I have a poor track record with finishing stories, so well done me for finishing! I got a little emotional when I typed the last few words last night.

I will continue to write in the future, but hopefully it will be about my own characters. Maybe if I'm very lucky, I might get something onto bookshelves sometime in the future? If you want to see what I'm up to outside of the world of then you can check out my blog - see my profile for the link! I also have a twitter! [at]Woffles92

To everyone who has made it this far in the story; thank you. Without you lovely readers and reviewers, and those who added this to alerts and watching, you kept me going. The support that fanfic writers receive is one of the reasons I love it so much.

So to the few who did get a chance to leave a review on the last chapter, here are your replies!

heavenxxbaby - Thanks! Glad you liked the twist at the end ;) You really didn't think you'd seen the last of her? :P  
Starfish - I didn't leave you too long to wait. Your name has been leaving me reviews since the beginning, and I'm so glad to see you've stuck around! Hope you enjoy the last chapter and thank you for reading xx  
Peacefreakx3 - It's a good thing you like cliffhangers, because there has been quite a few of them! Just one more chapter I'm afraid, and I hope you enjoy it!

So, my sincere thanks for reading.

Peace out. Merry Christmas. God bless.

_**Woffles92**_

* * *

**Chapter 20 – The Greatest Adventure**

"W…what?" the prince stammered.

"The Hassansin. He's mine and I want him back!"

Dastan and Tamina exchanged frightened glances. He took a deep breath to try and calm his voice.  
"I think you're confused. Zolm is dead. He was killed in battle."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," she hissed visciously. "I know he's _dead_. I was the one who killed him! I didn't want to, but in case you've forgotten, none of us had much choice once you dear Uncle had his way. And speaking of Nizam, wasn't he supposed to be dead also?"

"No!" Tamina said at once, realising her intention, "You can't, it's forbidden!"

The girl pressed the blade even closer to the smooth skin at her neck.  
"I think we're forgetting who has who at the point of a knife, _princess_."

"Don't hurt her," Dastan begged. It was like a nightmare he just couldn't wake up from. Once one scene ended, another began.

"It's forbidden," Tamina repeated, "You'll upset the balance of things. Those who are dead are meant to stay dead."

"Do you think I care about the rules of your gods? They've done nothing for me."

"Then think of the people," she pleaded, "you know yourself how monstrous it is for the victims."

"He's an _Hassansin_!" the girl cackled, "He kills for a _living_. What difference does it make how he does it?"

"But it's not killing." Dastan interrupted, "Not really. You're still alive after, even if your body is like an empty shell."

"Then we make _very_ sure that the body doesn't stay alive," she replied deviously, as if her solution was the most obvious thing in the world, "I've thought this through Prince; you can't talk me out of it."

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts and think of another possible way of persuading her to relent.

She continued to provoke him. "I need a guardian's blood for the ritual. It doesn't say how much. The longer you wait the more tempted I'll be to use it all, just to be on the safe side."

It was the last straw. Nizam had been rotten to the core, poisoned by years of jealousy of Sharaman. Of course things weren't going to end well when he was brought back. But what about Zolm? Sure the Hassansin had numerous faults, but he had showed a spark of humanity in his last days. Dastan was sure this was down to the girl, although right now she wasn't doing much to justify herself as a role model.

"Alright," he sighed heavily as his resolve crumbled, "We'll help."

"Dastan!" Tamina snapped angrily, "We _can't_."  
Even when her life was hanging by a thread, she still clung to her ideology with a tenacity so strong it was bordering on stupid.

"What choice to do we have," he retorted

The princess pursed her lips in irritation.

"I know Zolm isn't going anywhere in a hurry, but I would quite like this business of ours to be sorted before morning," the girl sighed cynically.

"On your head be it then, Dastan," Tamina said finally.

"Excellent. Now, take me to him. And Dastan? If you try anything, I swear I'll slit her pretty little throat."

* * *

With Tamina still held at knife point, they descended to the outer courtyard where the pyres had been built. Dastan noted to himself that the guards really had to be trained better. Three people should not have been allowed to move through the palace unchallenged. On the other hand he was almost glad. If they had been spotted, he wasn't sure how Tamina would have fared.

Only a few hours previous they had gathered around the fires to pay their respects to those who had passed. Some were still smoking as the last of the wood smouldered. Most had been Nizam's victims who had starved to death in the prisons, and Zolm. The Hassansins would collect the ashes in the morning and take them back to wherever it was that they called their home, and do whatever they did with their dead. However, it was doubtful that they had calculated an infatuated adolescent into their plans.

Dastan hoped that perhaps the girl might drop her hold of Tamina while collecting some of the ashes, allowing him a few vital seconds for him to retrieve her and bring the madness to an end. She didn't.

Those who were still awake and celebrating Nizam's defeat were too inebriated to notice the three as they made their way through the dark and almost deserted streets in search of one of the hidden entrances to the caves below the city. It was exactly where she remembered it had been the time she had followed Zolm

They had made some, understandably awkward, small talk along the way. Secretly Tamina had been hoping to gain the girl's trust so as to make another attempt to dissuade her. All she managed to garner was her name. Nasreen.

As they entered the cavern that contained the great sand glass, they stopped for a moment. Although there was no one in their company that hadn't seen it before, the sight was still impressive enough to catch you off guard a subsequent time. Tamina traversed the impossibly thin walkways that connected the glass to the network of tunnels with her heart in her mouth. She had made this journey countless times before, but there was something about this time that had her anxious. Perhaps it was because she felt as though she was somehow betraying the gods.

They came to a halt in front of the column. Nasreen spun Tamina around and grabbed her hand. With one quick movement, she sliced the blade across her hand. The princess gave a cry of shock, and then grimaced against the pain. Nasreen pressed the bleeding palm onto the face of the sand glass, watching the blood run through the cracks. Then, she released her, and Tamina returned to Dastan, nursing her hand. He ripped off a portion of his sleeve and used it as a bandage.

While this occurred, Nasreen took the ashes and mixed them with the blood. She traced the few ancient letters that she could remember Zolm writing into the gruesome paste. Then, she closed her eyes and waited. The tension was thick enough to be pierced with a sword. After several moments, she opened her eyes and frowned. Panicking now, she retraced the symbols with her finger, muttering to herself as she went.

A breeze began to move through the cavern.

"Brace yourselves," she said with a wicked grin as the winds picked up.

They crouched down, steadying themselves as best they could against the sudden and inexplicable sandstorm. Dastan was trying not to remember the time he'd been to visit the sand glass and was keeping Tamina as far away from the ledge as he could. Voices began to speak.

_The initial price is paid. Do you, wretched one, understand the terms?_

"I do," someone replied. A silhouette appeared in the sand glass. Nasreen's face lit up.

_Should you fail to meet our demands, or, if you are pierced by sacred blades, you shall return to the unimaginable punishments which you deserve. Do you consent?_

"Yes."

The shadow fell through onto their side, collapsing into a heap on the ground. The winds died to nothing and the gypsy girl dropped onto her knees beside him. After a painfully long moment, he opened his pale eyes and looked up at her with confusion. Zolm opened his mouth to speak but she had other plans. Her hand connected with the good half of his face. The slap echoed around the cavern.  
"That's for not stopping Nizam when I got caught," she snapped bitterly.

Before he had a chance to respond, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed his mouth.

"And that's for making sure I was cared for."

He continued to stare at her dumbly.

"Say something!" she demanded after a few moments of silence.

He scowled. "Are you going to let me?"

She let out an irritated sigh and gestured for him to talk. Dastan and Tamina exchanged a look, not sure what to make of the pair's bizarre exchange.

"Why?" he asked simply with an air of disbelief.

She smiled. "You promised to be my teacher."

"I'm sure if you had followed around one of the brothers for long enough and bothered them as relentlessly as you did me, they would have yielded eventually."

"Life is more interesting with _you_ around."

He shook his head in bewilderment.  
"You're crazy," he decided.

"Then we're perfectly matched."  
She helped him to his unsteady feet. Expectantly, Nasreen looked up into his face.  
"The least you could do would be to thank me."

He raised his eyes upwards in despair. Then, as he brought them back down to look at her, he smiled. It was odd to see on his face, but it seemed to suit him better than his usual contemptuous or manic expressions.

"Thank you," he said with quiet sincerity, touching a pale hand to her tawny face.

"I didn't mean _literally_," she purred, pressing her body into his.

Dastan cleared his throat awkwardly, reminding them that they weren't alone. They looked up, both wearing equally annoyed looks.

"You have to leave," Tamina cut in abruptly. She gave Zolm and Nasreen a scathing glare. "This shouldn't have happened. _You_ shouldn't be alive. I want you both to leave Alamut and never come back. I won't have a repeat of the last few weeks. None of my people should have to suffer through anything like that again."

"You think I'd be foolish enough to remain within a hundred leagues of that dagger now?" the Hassansin smirked.  
"We have no intentions of staying."

"Good," the princess snapped, "then go."

Zolm looked at Dastan, and shot him a grin that was more in his usual, inane, style.

"Take care not to make any enemies _Prince_," he warned, "I just _hate_ to think of the outcome should I be employed to dispose of you."

"Go," Tamina repeated, louder.

There was a tense moment. The only weapon between the four of them was the blade Nasreen still carried. If the two rogues had wanted to, they could have disposed of both the prince and princess without a second thought. However, it seemed that wasn't what they wanted. With a little bow of his head, Zolm placed his arm around Nasreen's waist and led her off into the darkened maze, where they disappeared from sight.

Tamina let out a long breath and buried her face in Dastan's chest. They embraced.  
"Take me back to bed, and let's pretend this was all a bad dream."

He chuckled.  
"With pleasure."

* * *

The crowds cheered as the gilded carriage was pulled through the streets. Dastan and Tamina's arms ached from all the waving, but they persevered. The Persians hadn't been the most popular people in Alamut since the raid. But after releasing them from the few weeks of terror they had endured under Nizam, they realised that maybe Dastan wouldn't be such a bad regent after all. And with their beloved Tamina by his side, there couldn't be too much that could go wrong.

Flowers rained down from balconies onto the heads of the newlyweds as they processed through Alamut. The two elder princes rode out in front, and Dastan's best man Bis, who had eventually turned up, brought up the rear. As he looked out over the crowd at the happy faces, he caught a glimpse of what he thought was a pale face and two ice blue eyes under a black hood. But when he looked again it was gone.

"What is it?" Tamina asked out of the corner of her mouth, sensing something was wrong.

Maybe the Hassansin was still in Alamut, maybe he had just imagined it, but he wasn't going to tell Tamina, especially not today of all days.

"Nothing," he lied.

They continued to wave and smile. Amar and Seso might be somewhere in the crowd too, he remembered. They had been given their promised 'reward' last night but were most probably half way back to the valley of the slaves by now. The African had declined his reward initially, but Dastan had insisted. After all, if anyone deserved anything it was him. He had been the one to deal the fatal blow to Nizam. The Sheik had tried to barter for more gold, saying something about needing compensation for lost ostriches. Tamina's response had been diplomatic and polite, but the message was clear; take what he had been given graciously, or leave with nothing. He had been _most_ courteous after that.

It was very late by the time Dastan and Tamina managed to escape the celebrations. Their bellies were full from the numerous courses of food, and Dastan a little woozy from the endless supply of good wine. The music could still be heard throughout the palace as the festivities continued without the honoured guests. They collapsed onto the bed, still wearing all their finery. Almost immediately, Tamina jumped up again.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his s's slightly slurred.

"I sat on something."

Dastan rummaged through the sheets until he found the culprit. Lying on the bed was a gold bangle, in the shape of a snake. Two glittering blue gemstones were set into the eyes of the serpent. The prince began to laugh.

"I do believe it's a wedding present."  
He held it out. Tamina took it from him with a scowl.

"It's not funny. I instructed them to leave."

"Relax. Think of it as a parting gift. After all, he does have you to thank for bringing him back."

"I didn't have much choice," she reminded him harshly as she crossed the room to her dressing table. She set the bangle down with her other jewellery. The eyes seemed to wink at her in the lamp light. It was slightly unsettling. She spent a moment regarding herself the looking glass. In it, she saw her prince approach.

"Do you think we'll finally get some peace and quiet now?" Dastan chuckled quietly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"For about the next eight moons or so, yes. Then we'll never know the meaning of peace again," she replied, taking his hands and settling them on her abdomen.

He laughed and squeezed her tightly.  
"So, what do you suppose we have in there?"

"A girl," Tamina replied confidently, "The first born of guardians are always female. It's tradition."

"I'm sure it can't have escaped your notice," he replied in a teasing whisper, "but, I'm not one for tradition."

"Well, I can't argue with _that_," she laughed.

They continued to talk until well after the sun had come up, too tired for anything else. It didn't matter; no-one would disturb them today. Finally, they surrendered themselves to sleep.

They slept for what felt like days, allowing themselves ample time to recover from the celebrations, and from the weeks before. One great adventure was over. However, they knew that when they awoke, another one was waiting for them just around the corner; the rest of their lives.

**The End**

**Woffles92 xx**


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